The Death of Iron Fist II
by grelber37
Summary: The Death of Iron Fist is my most popular fanfiction. A sequel might be fun for everyone. What if enemies, old and new, plotted the death of Iron Fist once more? In this tale, please expect the same intrigue and thrills and gritty chills. Expect even more Iron Fist this time around. The Daughters of the Dragon and other good and interesting folks show up too.
1. Chap 1: Mister Meet Master

**Chapter 1: Mister Meet Master**

"Do you have a death wish?" Nathan Lemon asks the man sitting across from him.

"Yes, I do have a death wish. I want Iron Fist dead," the man replies, sipping beer smugly.

Nathan is shocked, "Do you know how many tough guys died the last time that we tried killing Iron Fist? El Aguila, Crossbow, Montenegro, Skullcrusher, Pavane, two Kingorian savages, two attack panthers, and the infamous Scarecrow, for Christ's sake!"

"Amen," the fair-haired, dark-suited man uplifts his hands.

Nathan Lemon exclaims, "I almost died myself several times! So did Colleen Wing and Shanna the She-Devil, and their friends did not like that occurrence a bit."

"Are you sour on the assignment, Mr. Lemon?" whiskey flows down a gullet.

"I would like to be hired, Mr. Beliar," David Cannon states beside Nathan. The two villains sit side-by-side in a booth. Across from them, Mr. Beliar sits with pre-meal refreshments.

"Whirlwind, don't barrel into a bad deal," Lemon cautions Cannon.

"Spymaster," Cannon calls Lemon, "Let's hear Mr. Beliar out here." Spymaster and Whirlwind sit here listening to a possible employer. The three sit in a Bar with No Name in Springdale, Connecticut. Besides them, Nathan espies a server at the bar and a cook in the kitchen. Mr. Beliar has managed to get the bar all to himself, somehow. Of course, Springdale is somewhat out-of-the-way, and it is home to the rogues gallery of Speedball, local hero. So, it is not where the happening villains, the New York elite, hang out much.

Behind the bartender, the blonde cook brings a clam appetizer to the order window. The steward turns to get it. At the table, Mr. Beliar dumps peanuts and beer into his mouth, and he gulps and crunches like a goddam beast. Spymaster is not sure what he is seeing. Whirlwind is amused and continues enjoying his screwdriver. The food arrives, and the barkeep places it down before Beliar. He brings his master another beer stein promptly.

"Thank you, Tommy," Beliar tells the barkeep.

"That is Thomas Arn, an old Iron Fist foe," Spymaster notes, "He took over the nefarious identity of Chaka Khan after a man named Robert Hao was imprisoned."

The potential employer is impressed, "You know your stuff, Nate."

"Nathan," Mr. Lemon corrects him, "I know also that Roger Joliet, a.k.a. Jolly Roger, old Speedball foe, operates this particular Bar with No Name. Usually, he greets guests, sometimes jollily. Where is ol' Roger today?"

Beliar scarfs fried clam. He takes a moment to chew it over. Anon, he answers, "He is in back assisting the cook."

"We can see the jolly old fellow later," Whirlwind tells Spymaster, "Right now, I want to hear a business offer."

Beliar points a sharp finger at Arn, and the bartender prepares more drink for Cannon. Spymaster studies Beliar's dirty, under-trimmed nail. There is a reason that Nathan did not touch the peanuts in the snackbowl. Also, Mr. Beliar smells a bit, three-piece suit or not.

The suit swigs suds, "As stated, I want Iron Fist murdered. You, Spymaster, were involved in a past plot to kill him. You, Whirlwind, were involved in Spymaster's plot marginally, and you have fought Iron Fist before [see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #106]. You both might appreciate another crack at him—for riches."

Mr. Lemon considers, "I would not mind paying him back for past troubles. Three buddies and he actually tracked me down after I escaped following the last plot's failure."

Mr. Cannon chuckles insensitively, "Yeah, I heard about that. Iron Fist, Ka-Zar, and two MI-6 guys gave you a beat-down after Misty Knight and the NYPD had already given you a beat-down." Tommy brings guffawing Whirlwind another vodka and OJ. Beliar sits there smirking.

Their companion stares daggers back at them. He gets them back on point, "So anyway, I have a reason to destroy Iron Fist. Obviously, you must want the death of Iron Fist too, Mr. Beliar."

Beer foam forms a goatee upon Beliar's handsome face. "Truthfully, I bear Iron Fist no malice," replies the curious contract client.

"Get f***ed!" Spymaster expresses his surprise.

"You're a little weird, man," Whirlwind comments, "Why do you want Iron Fist dead then?" Sometimes, buzzed people are readier to just go with the flow.

Mr. Beliar delicately takes a pocketsquare from his suitjacket. He swipes the dripping dunkel from his maw. "I have a condition," Beliar states.

"What is your condition? Are you infatuated with Daniel Rand like I am with Janet Van Dyne?" Cannon queries.

"No, I do not suffer from lust. I shall not be stuffing my trophy once you deliver him. That would be psycho," Beliar references a book.

"Are you some bored rich guy?" Spymaster inquires, "Do you want Iron Fist hunted to vicariously sate your own pride and envy?"

"No," Beliar pats his belly, "My condition is that I need to eat a lot. I, dare I say, have a stomach like a bottomless pit."

"No kidding. I have observed that you eat like a fiend," Lemon puckers.

Beliar chuckles. Astute Spymaster suspects something about Beliar, but it can't be the case. Another order arrives from the kitchen. Tommy Arn delivers it. With relish, Beliar bites into a breaded meat sandwich that dribbles pinkish grease.

"Is that a pork sandwich?" Cannon asks.

"Long pork," Beliar answers.

"Baloney," Lemon declares, "Long pork is what cannibals call human flesh."

"How did you know that?" Beliar asks.

"I read a lot of crap on the internet," Spymaster loves information.

"I too love reading. In fact, because of something I read, I want you two to kill Iron Fist and to deliver his carcass to me," Beliar consumes some flesh.

Spymaster wearies of inquest, "What in hell's name motivates you, Mr. Beliar? Spill your guts, please."

The eater smirks, "Iron Fist has a dragon branded upon his chest, and that same powerful dragon is part of him. The creature's name is Shou-Lao the Undying. And, I wish to ritually consume the great beast and the great warrior. I wish to absorb their spirits and energy into myself. I shall butcher and eat Iron Fist's body if you gentlemen but kindly deliver it."

Beliar's chops bite and grind the long pork grinder. Two other jaws drop.

"Get f***ed! I'm done," Nathan Lemon rises abruptly to leave. Spymaster is an occasional assassin, but he is no sicko.

Beliar and Cannon watch Lemon depart for the sidewalk outside of the bar. The petitioner returns to the possible peon. From his suitcoat, Beliar produces a cigar, and he places the "dogturd" before David.

"May I tempt you into a smoke?" Beliar asks.

"I can smoke in here?" Cannon asks back.

"Yes. The Bar with No Name is a den of free spirits, for a Bar with No Name is a bar with no limits. Freedom prevails," Beliar beguiles.

"God bless the outlaws," Cannon comments. Then, he startles. Bartender Arn is suddenly beside him. The sneak snips the cigar and strikes a match. He lights Whirlwind.

"Xiexie," David thanks the Chinese-American.

"You are welcome," Thomas replies, "But I am from New York, not Nanking. "

"New York City is a lovely place. I have often acted there," Beliar bites his sandwich, and it bleeds a little. He chews flesh and considers the felon across from him.

Whirlwind puffs his cigar. The smoke gets into his head and obscures his vision. Through the haze, Mr. Beliar looks into his eyes, and Beliar's burning eyes are gradually the only thing that Cannon sees. A voice intones "David, my boy, we need to get Nathan back to the table." Whirlwind rises. He drops the cigar. It really is a dogturd. Perhaps, it is what has attracted so many flies to Beliar's booth.

Outside, Nathan Lemon awaits his companion. Perhaps, he would smoke 'em if he had 'em, but he does not smoke. Spymaster has other vices, but an elite espionage agent cannot afford bad lungs. Nathan gasps when David inexplicably sneaks-up on him from behind. Normally, a spymaster is more alert.

"Sinclair Abbott," Cannon utters in Lemon's ear.

Nate faces him, "What about him? He was an arrogant industrialist who tried to take me out recently. He even stole my Spymaster identity."

"I heard that he had killed you," (see _Iron Man: The Inevitable_ #2) David replies.

"Dave, in this business, we are all experts at faking our own deaths," the master elucidates, "I faked mine for two reasons. One, I was beneath the radar when people believed that I was six feet under. Two, my 'death' allowed Abbot to bring all of the heat on himself by pretending to be Spymaster. And, you know what? The cops capped him eventually [see _Invincible Iron Man_ #519]. It wasn't even Iron Man, Ghost, I, or anyone cool who liquidated the loser. A herd of pigs did. Do you understand? That loser the Living Laser killed Abbott's wife Greta [see _Iron Man: The Inevitable_ #6], but Sinclair himself did not die in such a cool and dignified manner."

Cannon takes Lemon's arm, "Mr. Beliar is someone 'cool', to use your term. He could do a lot for you. You should return inside and do business with him. He could make you less of a mockery to Iron Man, She-Hulk [see _Sensational She-Hulk_ #59], Ka-Zar, and such. Beliar could buoy your bad reputation. He could make you cool—and dignified."

Offended, Lemon pulls free his arm. He is unconvinced, "Mr. Beliar is an aspiring madman madder than most. Let's get back to the Big Apple where there are fewer crazy Connecticut cannibals."

Spymaster moves toward the sedan that brought the dastardly duo north. Whirlwind cuts off his path, "Mr. Beliar could do a lot for you. You should see who and what is in this bar's kitchen. It is true. Some of us are experts at cheating death in this business."

"What in hell's name is that supposed to mean?" Spymaster grows irritated. Whirlwind is being pushy. Spymaster knows better than to push back against such a powerful mutant. He does not need to be embarrassed. However, Whirlwind might be flying home instead of riding.

Cannon closes space on Lemon. Leaning in, he speaks, "Mr. Beliar could do a lot for you, Nate. He might be a devil with a deal worth your making. Besides, who is craftier? Him or you, Spymaster? You can always double-cross the crazy later. We can just take Beliar's money, kill Iron Fist, and not deliver the body, or something!"

During conversation, Spymaster notices Whirlwind's body twitch and his eyes flutter in a certain way. The espionage elite knows hypnosis or mind control when he sees it. This Mr. Beliar seems like a capable puppet master indeed. He is capable of mind control and, apparently, even greater things. Spymaster is intrigued and curious. He might as well gather information on Beliar and his plan. Information is safety. Information is power. And, Spymaster need not fear Beliar. After all, as Whirlwind rhetorically wondered, who is wilier? Nate walks back into his fate. He wants to encounter the full deal and master plan of boss Beliar.

Entering the bar, Spymaster immediately controls the conversation, "You know, 'Beliar' is a form of 'Belial', a devil. Is that what you have to offer—a deal with the devil?"

"I certainly do know who I am," Beliar eats apple pie, "And, I know who you are too. Mammon and pride are friends of yours."

"No one quite knows Spymaster. I make sure of that," Spymaster states with some hubris.

Mr. Beliar nods knowingly, "I tell you what. Let's you make a deal with me. Let me give you Iron Fist's current location, and let me tell you that Misty Knight is with him. You remember Ms. Knight, correct?"

"Yeah," Spymaster answers curtly. Wrath swells in his chest, and vengeance enters his mind. Misty Knight messed him up once. The villain fantasizes of disassembling the bionic woman.

"You could easily have revenge upon both of them. You could kill the Living Weapon and slay the Daughter of the Dragon. And, you could get paid well for doing so. How satisfying would that be?" Beliar continues his pitch, "Let me be your patron and father just as Justin Hammer was, God—or whoever—keep his soul."

Nathan Lemon is a highly capable thug. It is true. He is a crafty mastermind and a badass commando capable of challenging even Iron Man and Iron Fist. But, Spytmaster is a thug at heart. Senseless violence speaks to him. Riches, rapaciously gained, feed his essence. In the end, he is a henchman and monkey's paw. Still, something in his psyche—conscience or otherwise—gives him pause before contracting with Beliar.

Nate murmurs. He asserts, "I am not comfortable with the cannibalism thing."

"Mr. Lemon, you desecrate a human body every time that you murder one," Mr. Beliar shrugs, "However, I am a fair and honest master. I give you my word, for all that it is worth, that we shall negotiate the fate of Iron Fist's corpse once you deliver it." Flies buzz around the empty dishes and the glutton in the booth.

Spymaster scrutinizes Beliar and considers his character. The man is fop with his fair coiffed hair, silk shirt, and gold rings. Pride tells Spymaster that he is tougher and worldlier than this man. Beliar is a kook whom Spymaster can certainly control and con. Spymaster figures that he knows who is the real master and devil here.

"All right," Spymaster agrees to the job, "You said that you have resources to offer."

"I have him," Beliar points to the bar. There, Thomas Arn has donned a garish orange mask that looks a little like a tiger. Later, team-leader Lemon will learn that this funny, fearsome face belongs to Chaka, an old Iron Fist enemy.

Nate manages to not roll his orbs contemptuously. "Who else you got?" he asks.

"Well, in this business, we are all experts at faking our own deaths," Beliar quotes Lemon. Lemon wonders how Beliar possibly does so. Beliar sat here eating while Whirlwind and Spymaster were outside. But, Lemon does know that there are 101 ways to spy on people.

"Okay, you apparently heard me discuss cheating death with Whirlwind. You know that stupid Sinclair Abbott didn't successfully whack me," Spymaster remarks, "Now, don't let me die of boredom. Who else have you got for our awesome assassination operation?"

Without a word, Beliar looks toward the kitchen and points a nail. With a flick, his finger beckons someone from within. In the kitchen's freezer, the cook turns her ponytailed head as though toward a voice. Then, she turns her body away from two human carcasses hanging from meathooks. One is Jolly Roger, the man who owns this bar. His leg lacks a chunk that was served breaded on a bran bun earlier. The other hanging stiff is the real Thomas Arn. Like panthers' paws, her boots travel the kitchen's hard floor and rubber mats sans sound. From a cupboard, the cook grabs a bullwhip and places it upon her hip behind her apron.

She emerges from the swinging kitchen doors. Spymaster and Whirlwind see her. Duel jaws drop. It is Pavane! She lets loose her hair. And, her golden tresses and glinting eyes tell the two men that the terminated temptress is very much alive. Spymaster and Whirlwind remember when Colleen Wing gutted her. The men are tempted to rip open her shirt and to find the evisceration scar. But, that action might be a little offbeat. She smiles and winks. Spymaster wonders where in Hell she came from.


	2. Chap 2: Like a Snake

**Chapter 2: Like a Snake**

Like a snake, Spymaster lies prostrate observing Misty Knight. Sand and gravel grates beneath his body in the bushes. Binoculars sit at his nose, and he watches her fishing. Bedrock Creek is a beautiful place for an assassination. It is an isolated locale in western Montana. Once, there was a Bedrock Creek community here in the 1880s. But, there is now only the creek itself and the camps and cabins in the vicinity. Beyond Knight, the Continental Divide rises gloriously into the big sky. In the sky, the afternoon sun descends and casts some shadow upon the ill-fated angler before Spymaster kills her. He takes his sniper rifle and assumes the prone position. Through the scope, Miss Knight fly-fishes contentedly. An amputee, Misty must be proud that her bionic arm can cast the lure as it does. Spymaster awaits the signal to shoot her.

A mile east, Spymaster's team take their positions around Daniel Rand, a.k.a. Iron Fist, i.e. the man whom they intend to murder. Whirlwind stands a mere 300-feet from the front door of Rand's cabin. Apparently, the ol' Kung-Fu Killer does not even notice Whirlwind standing amidst the nearby brush. Perhaps, the supervillain's green costume blends in. Whirlwind moseys forward from the forest. He doesn't care whether Iron Fist sees him coming or not. Whirlwind plans to simply blast forward and hit Iron Fist like a hurricane in Montana. Neither Iron Fist nor the Daughters of the Dragon, Rand's companions, have ever quite bested Whirlwind (see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #106 & _Daughters of the Dragon_ LS), so the champions look like chumps to the churl.

"Do you know what the ***hole is doing right now?" Cannon queries his companions.

Chaka radios back, "No. What?"

"He is on the computer. Only a putz plays on the computer while there is wondrous nature outside," Whirlwind inhales awesome air, "Perhaps, Chairman Rand finishes some business before we finish him."

"This sojourn is a business trip for us too," Spymaster joins the radio chatter, "The death of Iron Fist is our business."

"Yeah, I guess it is. It is some business that is a frick'n pleasure," Whirlwind replies.

Team leader Spymaster gets his people on-task (i.e. on business), "Do we know where Colleen Wing is right now? I do not want to hit Rand and Knight until we know that Wing cannot interfere."

"I have eyes on her. Her rental is nearly to the road out of this remote area," Thomas Arn answers, "She is doing a supply run perhaps."

Spymaster knows that Wing is doing a supply run. His planted listening devices told him that she planned one for this afternoon. Iron Fist and companions do not even seem aware of the bugs. Spymaster knows everything about the trio's conversations, and he knows that his assassination plot is likely to work upon the unaware targets. But, what he doesn't know is how the hell Chaka could possibly have eyes on Wing two miles from the cabin. Tommy had better not be out-of-position!

Spymaster speaks, "Chaka, how in the hell do you have eyes on Wing? Are you out-of-position? First, Whirlwind strikes. Then, you follow im-medi-ately. That is how we execute Iron Fist."

"Tigers are capable of many things," Chaka answers enigmatically, "We climb trees. We run fast. I'll be there to put a triple-iron into the superhero's skull." Chaka references the electrified nunchucks that he uses.

Spymaster sighs. Beliar has provided him a couple weirdos for this high-risk mission. Chaka is a little strange and flighty. Pavane is supposed to be dead. And, she does not explain her unexpected return no matter how interrogated. No matter how Lemon grills the cook, Pavane does not spill the beans about how she possibly survived Wing spilling her guts with an ax. The cat has her tongue.

Right on cue, Pavane joins the conversation, "You know, I could have followed Ms. Wing into town. I would not mind whipping her in a catfight—again—before butchering her—again—as Scarecrow did [see "Twisted," _The Death of Iron Fist_ ]. Surely, Chaka and Whirlwind can handle the death of Mr. Rand."

"I prefer three on Iron Fist, and I am team-leader," Spymaster asserts, "I can handle Misty Knight. Believe it or not, I almost had her dead in a New York City police station once. I need to. . . . . Er, um, I _want_ to finish the job." Nathan Lemon needs to end his humiliation at the hands of such parties as Iron Man, She-Hulk, Master Khan, the third Spymaster, and—Misty Knight. He needs to successfully slaughter someone of status. The master spy needs to prove himself, to himself.

Pavane purrs. The temptress knows men's egos. Papa wants to prove what a big man that he is, and that is all right. Perhaps, she will strip away his guises later. Perhaps, she will use her gentle hands. Perhaps, a harsh whip. Perhaps, she will expose his true, vulnerable, naked being to Chaka, Whirlwind, and Nathan Lemon himself. Pavane has overseen this evil endeavor before, and she could again. Like a panther, she waits.

"It is about that time," Whirlwind tells everyone, "I am directly outside the lodge. Our target is going to notice me sooner or later. I would prefer that he notice first when surprise-attacked."

"Yeah, execute," Spymaster gives the go. He prays that Chaka is in-position. He prays that Beliar delivered a good man.

In the cabin, Danny Rand daydreams into his Tibetan wine. He strolls from his laptop to the larder and opens a kitchen drawer. Within it, an antique pistol rests. A deadly hand of kung-fu takes-up the arm. Last night, propertymaster Rand had regaled the ladies with tales of this gun. Many moons ago, this six-shooter had belonged to legend Kid Colt, and the Western hero had once brought this peacemaker into these parts (see _Two-Gun Western_ #9). In the 1880s, the town of Bedrock Creek had a corrupt sheriff, you see. This strongarm was named Dick Glover. . . . .

After Danny spun his yarn, Colleen Wing also told a story by the hearth's burning light. Apparently, there once was a man named Carter Slade who rode around these parts about the same time as Kid Colt. Slade resided in Bison Bend, a stone's throw from Bedrock Creek. And, Carter Slade he was the legendary lawman known as. . . . . Colleen Wing is a spiritual person and a warrior. Therefore, she has always admired Carter Slade ever since first reading of him. She does not admire his brother Lincoln Slade much, but that is a different history for a different time.

The three slept. They arose this morning. Danny and Misty stayed in bed a time while Colleen went for a sunrise hike. Upon Wing's return, Rand had the energy to spar with her outside, and the two warriors worked-up quite a lather. Afterward, each cottage occupant showered in the fine facilities that Rand money conveniently provides a country camp. Around noon, Misty and Danny played checkers while Colleen made a light, nutritious lunch. After lunch, Misty went to fish, excited to try her arm at fly-fishing. Danny skyped with business partner Joy Meachum in New York before he composed reports for a wee. Returning to relaxation, he grabbed a chang wine and chilled in the kitchen.

Presently, relaxed Rand spots his smartphone on the Formica counter. Danny should probably text Misty a sweet nothing right now. He reaches for the device.

Then, all hell breaks loose. Whirlwind arrives. The cabin's façade blasts inward upon wicked winds. Reflexively, Iron Fist hits the deck. He dives below the wave of broken wood and glass that crashes atop him. Hurricane Cannon deposits the living room furniture and the kitchen cabinetry upon buried Iron Fist. The maniac smiles coldly within his steely helmet. He lets the circular blades upon his wrists spin into a mesmerizing blur before his crazed eyes.

"I'm gonna lop your head off, hero-man!" Whirlwind howls through his squall.

The pile stirs upward, and Iron Fist's head peaks from it. The Living Weapon grimaces in minor injury and major anger. Fiercely, he frees himself and faces his foe. Burning sunlight streams through the dusty air from the cabin's felled front.

Then, the cabin's back wall crashes in. Chaka arrives. Shards of wood and glass explode before his terrible triple-iron, charged current crackling. Shrapnel slices the kung-fu fighter's flesh. Whirlwind smiles. Behind his mask, Chaka smiles. Iron Fist snarls defiantly back. Then, unexpectedly, Chaka's mouth goes agape. Iron Fist smirks. Shooting water lands upon Chaka's electrified nunchuku, and those juiced links jolt him temporarily. You see, kitchens have pipes leading to them. Ingeniously, Chaka burst some of them in his grand entrance. Terrible Tommy Arn spasms and jiggles before falling facefirst into the dirty debris.

"Pathetic," Whirlwind comments, "And, I am one of the Avengers least respected foes after being a stalker of Wasp for years."

"You should not have hunted me either," Iron Fist catches his breath, "Remember, Cannon, I have taken you once before."

"F*** you" is Whirlwind's simple reply before simply sending a speeding buzzsaw toward Fist's neck. Iron Fist simply sidesteps, and the blade sticks hard into the wall behind him. With a chop, the master martial artist clefts the steel disk cleanly in twain.

Slightly aloft, Whirlwind stares down Iron Fist. Iron Fist glares back. Danny considers taking the tiff to the cabin's shower room. There is a weapon there. It has a water heater. Rand could. . . . . Buffeting winds bunt the champion through the back wall's breach before he can act. Iron Fist bounces over the rough ground. Fortunately, he is an expert tumbler. Rolling to a stop, Fist springs to his feet in a fighting position. Chuckling, chucklehead Whirlwind moves in. What is Iron Fist going to do to him?


	3. Chap 3: Like a Rock

**Chapter 3: Like a Rock**

Spymaster watches Misty Knight in his crosshairs. His barrel points to the area just over her left breast. Nearby, a cabin partially collapses, and the crash makes quite a noise. Misty jerks her look to the east. Immediately, she turns her feet in that direction. Spymaster's rifle cracks. Her boots fly skyward. Comically, she flops backward over a boulder behind her, and her body spills into the running stream. Excited Spymaster sees limp Misty bobbing along Bedrock Creek toward him. He stands. He marches along the bank toward her. She might have moved at the last second. The sniper is not sure. Gunshots occur so quickly. Spymaster goes to see that the Daughter of the Dragon is definitely dead. Misty Knight should be definitely dead.

Elsewhere, by the cabin, Whirlwind goes in for the coup de grace. He gleefully buffets Iron Fist with twigs and stones from feet away. Iron Fist protects his face with abraded arms. He walks backward as though retreating. Whirlwind watches with whimsy. But, the dizzy villain should not really walk on air so. The Living Weapon lures the levitated, leering lout into Whirlwind's woe. Iron Fist's butt bumps into the ATV parked behind the cabin. The water heater might be unavailable, but this four-wheeler is here.

Danny challenges David, "Bring it on, Cannon! The Immortal Iron Fist can punch through a whirlwind!" Prey taunts predator.

"The Immortal Iron Fist is soon to be dead, dude. You're a blusterer," tornadic thug retorts.

Master Rand beckons, "And, you're a coward!"

Whirlwind advances. His wristblade whirs sinisterly, "You're an idiot."

"And, you're a fool, cyclonic sucker," Rand retorts.

Iron Fist spins around. His left hand severs a steel cylinder from the ATV. His right hand seizes the stout tank. Iron Fist spins back around. Whirlwind is upon him. The hero's left hand chops the valve clean off the propane tank. Liquid propane blasts into the spinning winds clothing Whirlwind's person. The bad guy is instantly adorned in caustic chemical. It covers his exposed arms and chest. It penetrates his skin with a deceptive chilliness. The propane is going to burn like the dickens in a moment. The malodorous mist nearly enters Cannon's eyes and nostrils. It nearly enters his mouth and throat when he screams.

Whirlwind disperses his winds wide to carry the chemical from him. He drops his guard. And, Iron Fist drops him with a clanging propane tank alongside the helmet. The mutant falls to the turf and moans as the propane reacts painfully with his skin.

"I am glad that Joy Meachum convinced me to use propane for the all-terrain vehicles," chairman Rand comments, "Gasoline can be a harmful substance to living things. Propane is much kinder."

Whirlwind's arms and chest turn red and puffy. His dermis distorts into a quilt pattern. David Cannon grits his teeth. He would ball his fists too, but they are already too swollen.

"If the right hand don't get ya, the left one will," Whirlwind warns Rand abstrusely.

"What does that mean?" Iron Fist asks.

Suddenly, movement catches Fist's attention to his left side. Through the underbrush, something stalks swiftly past. Iron Fist catches it only peripherally. Then, it is gone. But, it looked like—a black panther. And, Dan only glimpsed, but the kitty appeared to have—a whip and a corset. The hero must be seeing things. He hopes that the prowler might be a Montana mountain lion that might pester pesky Whirlwind. However, harassment arrives from a man in a tiger mask instead, and it is harassment directed at Iron Fist.

At Iron Fist's back, Chaka roars, "Turn, and face me!" Chaka stands with crackling killer chain weapon at his side once more.

"You should not announce your attack," Master Rand admonishes.

The arrogant assassin twirls his deadly chain above his head. It makes a hellish halo. He announces, "Chaka shall succeed where his companions did not!"

"Companions," Iron Fist notes a word. Chaka does not have only Whirlwind with him. Possibly, Chaka would bring a panther with him, for he is the leader of gang the Flying Tigers. There is a theme there. But, Iron Fist is unsure that Chaka would call the animal a "companion". So, who is the curious khan's companion? Iron Fist has little time to contemplate.

Chaka charges. Like a Bengal, he bounds to before Iron Fist. His fearsome flail wallops his quarry through the air. Iron Fist's back meets a solid tree trunk. Only a formidable fighter could have possibly rolled with the deadly device's strike. Iron Fist gets to his feet. Chaka strides forward and stops. He snaps the burning triple-iron tight before him.

"Behold the device of your death," Chaka hectors. The martial artist whizzes the lambent links before him in a pretty pattern that is supposed to impress the Immortal warrior.

"Just don't let that toy be the means of your death, Chaka," Iron Fist chides, "You are crunching over dry pine needles that could ignite. Remember, boy, only you can prevent forest fires."

"Don't laugh me make. Fire harm me cannot," Chaka speaks curiously. His voice sounds differently too.

Iron Fist is intrigued, but not shaken. "Perhaps, pine needles do not worry you, Chaka, Chaka Khan, but pine branches should. Let me show you," a mighty ax-kick cleaves a three-foot branch from a ponderosa.

Fist seizes the stick before it hits the ground. With one stroke, an adept hand cuts the wood to a sharp point. Then, the warrior flings the spear before his foe can even react. Three-feet of pine pierce the opponent's triple-iron arm. Chaka screams. He lowers his armed arm. In a desperate fight, a fighter takes extreme measures. Iron Fist sliding sidekicks over the sandy soil and impales the spear right through Chaka's f'n forearm. Chaka screeches. He drops his red-hot weapon toward the flammable firmament. With fluid motion, Iron Fist grabs the hot hazard's handle before it hits the ground. He switches off the electrical current and tosses the deactivated danger onto a nearby stone.

Chaka continues painfully peeping about the spear stabbed through his arm. Iron Fist backhands Chaka across the face. "Shut up," he commands.

"Shut up you!" Chaka retorts, "Staked my arm you did, Vlad Dracul!"

Who is this odd attacker? Iron Fist wonders. He yanks the mask from the foe's face. Well, it is Thomas Arn (it could have also been original Chaka Bob Hao or second Chaka Bob's brother Bill). BUT, Arn sure does not look quite right.

"Why do you have feathered hair and avian eyes like the Owl?" Iron Fist is truly baffled.

But, Iron Fist does not get to be baffled long. Someone staggers toward him noisily. Whirlwind wants another go-around. Iron Fist takes a deep breath and concentrates. He makes a fist. He makes a fist "like unto a thing of iron".

"Hey hero-man!" is all that Whirlwind gets out before Iron Fist fire his ferocious forte into Cannon's face. The Iron Fist of Iron Fist shatters the steel helmet cleanly from David Cannon's head. The villain stands dumb in slack-jawed, astounded surprise. But, he shouldn't be surprised. The Kung-Fu Killer fractured the helmet from his head in their last fight too (see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #106).

Danny scowls into Dave's face, "At least you look right, unlike Chaka."

Rand looks toward Arn and his skewered arm. Huge eyes look back. Then, in a blink, Tommy morphs to normal features. Who is this owlish creature? And, how in blazes did Arn become him? The super-sleuth wonders. But, the most current concern is that the fight seems completed. The hero kindly snaps the jutting spear and pulls the sticker through. Chaka cringes and tries not to cry.

Iron Fist's index indicates the cabin, "Let's go, you two. I'll have to contact SHIELD to come get you. The flying cars should be here soon."

"Fly away myself I would, if f**ked-up my wing you had not!" cuckoo Chaka complains.

"I would fly away too," Whirlwind adds.

Their compassionate host comments, "You idiots did not destroy the bungalow's beds and first aid kit, so you should have relative comfort while you wait. Also, please do not get any ideas about re-attacking or escaping. Misty Knight and Colleen Wing will be back to the abode soon. I would not piss-off a femme fatale if I were you."

Pavane makes her move. From the shadows, a six-shooter sounds, and a bullet blows through bicep thew. Iron Fist is surprised. Pardine Pavane prances from the chalet's shadows into the light. She wants her nemesis to see that she is very much alive and that he is soon dead. Pavane pads closer to her quarry with a cowboy's Colt in her hand. Whirlwind and Chaka pad away. The Colt of Kid Colt is supposed to be inactivate and empty. However, Daniel Rand is not too thrown; he has had a weird day.

The proud peahen cocks her gun. She aims between Iron Fist's eyes. Master Rand concentrates on the finger. From feet away, the firing miraculously misses fleetly moving man. The second sureshot does too, Daniel dodging. Dan dances closer to Pavane. She fires at his feet, and he leaps high. He lands inches from her. She shoots point blank. He swats her arm aside, and her awry ammo nearly shoots Cannon. Pavane snarls. Iron Fist grabs her gunhand. His fingers fire the weapon for her into the air.

"That's six. Here's five," Fist decks lethal lady in the teeth.

Pavane retaliates immediately. And, surprisingly, her decking drops Danny right on his ass. Her two pals applaud and jeer.

"Knock him in the sod! Knock him in the dirt! Get your f**king ass up, hero! You ain't hurt!" Whirlwind contributes.

Pavane brandishes the bullwhip from her hip. With a flourish, the flail cracks the hero's ham. He snarls. Instantly, Iron Fist springs to his feet. Forthwith, the whip wraps his lower leg. And, the tether yanks him clownishly from his feet and onto his ass again. Gathering strength, the revenant continues to play with its prey. Pavane begins to spin around, and attached Iron Fist (in turn) spins in a circle with her. By the leg, the tether harshly skips and skids the target over the graveled ground. Pavane dances like a dervish, and she raises her arms. Iron Fist collides with a solid boulder and the sharp brush. Pavane seems gleefully intent upon splattering Iron Fist, and—to this end—the playful predator "plays crack the whip". Her hands release the whiphandle, and her plaything soars like a hammer over the treetops.

Turf meets man hard. Stunned, Iron Fist lies temporarily still upon the slab of a sylvan embankment beneath the canopy's shadow. These fights take a lot out of a champion. However, the Young Dragon gathers the spirit within. He summons his strength and endurance. The Immortal Iron Fist gathers his inestimable chi, his personal and collective essence. Grunting and groaning, Iron Fist rises. The honorable, heroic xiake will finish his foes. He fearlessly faces them as they arrive in this glorious glade.

On Iron Fist's left, Whirlwind flies forth through the trees. But, he alights short of Iron Fist. He pampers his chemical burns and sits tight. On the right, Chaka shambles from the scrub, but he too stops short. He holds his hemorrhaging arm and pouts. Iron Fist has defeated this dumb duo. They await Pavane perhaps. He awaits Pavane.

Pavane flits through the foliage like a cougar—on all fours. Ever a bit kinky, she has removed her boots and gloves, and her exposed extremities look a wee weird. They look feline. Her hands are lightly hirsute and her feet furry. Both with claws. Pavane bounds before Iron Fist as he did a moment earlier before her. She leans in and sniffs. In his face, Iron Fist beholds glowing eyes, sharp teeth, and a button nose.

"What happened to you? Hall and Oates would say to watch out, boy," Iron Fist is flippant, "You've literally become a maneater."

"I do not get the reference," the mutated, menacing moggy mews.

"Early MTV. I show my age," Iron Fist muses, "Anyway, what have you become? Are you a were-cat now?"

"Yes, the Cat People revived me like they did Tigra," revenant replies.

"I am afraid that I do not get the reference," Iron Fist shakes his head, "I have met Tigra on rare occasions. But, I do not know every superfriend's history." Iron Fist readies his mind and body. He will pounce soon.

"A-ha! Now who doesn't know pop culture?" David Cannon shoots a gotcha from the sidelines, "Read more comics, Hong Kong Phooey!"

"I must be a character not to," superman shrugs.

Pavane explains her allusion, "Well, Greer Nelson was near death like I was. . . . ."

"I do not know who Greer Nelson is," Iron Fist interrupts, "I might have at one time, but you have smacked around my melon a lot today." He inhales and summons his chi.

The hellcat hisses, "I am a werewoman!"

"Actually, there is no such word and concept," Whirlwind interrupts.

"What?!" Pavane gets her whiskers in a bundle.

Whirlwind expounds, "I read it on a Marvel Comics letters page. Originally, Tigra was 'Tigra the Werewoman', but 'werewoman' ain't a word. I don't know why it ain't. I am not that well-read."

Pavane raises her hackles. She might have to kill someone else after Iron Fist.

Doing his breathing, Iron Fist tries not to laugh throughout this exchange. The fighter focuses. He looks into kitty's kisser. He summons primal puissance. Then. Pow! A powerpunch right into Pavane's puss. Her fearsome, feline face fractures inward. The lycanthrope lands upon her tail.

But, the creature springs instantly to its feet! To Iron Fist's utter amazement, Pavane's visage spontaneously reforms. Chagrined, the shocked champion asks again, "What the hell are you?"

"Well, much as honesty is tough for me, I shall admit that I am not Cat People. I am Riglevio, here to collect my masters' prize," the adversary answers.

Danny Rand considers Riglevio's cryptic reply. Does this Riglevio reference the Master of the World? Is this "Pavane" one of the Master's extraterrestrial Plodex servants? The Master of the World gave Heroes for Hire some major troubles a while back.

A flying buzzsaw decapitates Iron Fist's head before its brain can consider further. The whirling disk launches from the left while its target stares straight ahead at immediate threat. Blood-spattered, the blade continues to the right harmlessly into the distance. Iron Fist's severed skull and flesh falls into the dirt like a rock. Whirlwind smiles at his surprise strike. Supercriminal Cannon can brag for a long time about this one. Chaka is shocked. Pavane licks her lips when she witnesses the death of Iron Fist.

Elsewhere, Misty Knight nears her fate too. The flowing creek carries her flaccid body closer to Spymaster approaching along the bank. Misty is still alive, but her lifeblood gradually leaves her. It seeps between the fingers covering her sucking chest wound. It coughs forth from her throat. The creek's crystal waters carry crimson clumps in the current. Spymaster examines them passing. The assassin eyes his mark slowly dying in the cold water. She looks back at him. She struggles to find the jackknife in her jeans. It is her only weapon. Perhaps, Knight can throw a blade as well as partner Wing. Spymaster has his rifle, and he considers using it. A bullet to the head is humane. However, Nathan Lemon sort of hates Misty Knight and her friends. Because of her, he suffered once. Knight deserves to suffer. Her friends deserve to suffer when they see her. The cold-blooded commando slings his rifle and opens his backpack. From the pack, he produces a weighted net. Woozy Misty recognizes it. Spymaster traps and torments superheroes in the steel toil.

Spymaster lifts the fatal filament for Knight to see, "This is an electrified net that can even hurt Iron Man. I am going to toss it over you. It will pin you under the rushing water. Then, it will fry you like a trout. Once cooked, your flesh will be so seared and flaky that not even Colleen Wing will recognize you."

"I do not have any last words because I'll have the final word," Misty murmurs. She smiles while looking Spymaster in the eye.

"I didn't hear what you said. But. You're dead," Spymaster gives her an epitaph.

The net flies high before descending over her. The brutal electric current enters Knight in the buffeting, drowning current. The beautiful trout die around her. Misty spasms in torment and agony, her face grimacing. Beneath the water, her right hand grips the electrified net tight, and her bionic right arm smokes and spoils. Misty gasps. Spymaster sees her go slack and motionless. Only the water's roiling moves her bobbing body. Spymaster admires his work. Lemon can brag a long time about this one.

A revolver shot rings out and grabs Spymaster's attention. He had not expected one. The surprise discharge is quite startling and disturbing. In a blink, Spymaster has his rifle to his shoulder and his gun's scope to his eye. He sees who fired into the air. She is the oddest sight. On a mountain ridge, a brunette woman sits upon a white horse overlooking the creek. The mysterious cowgirl wears white from her boots to her hat. Oddly, she wears a cape upon her back and spectacles upon her face. Four-eyes points to Spymaster through the scope, and the nerdess' angry expression seems a warning. Nathan chuckles. The white-hat holsters her handgun. She reaches for a rifle in its saddle scabbard. Spymaster laughs aloud. Shoot, he already has the drop on her.

"My God, every Montanan missy thinks that she is Theodora Roosevelt and Pale Rider," Lemon guffaws. His finger pressures the M24's trigger. This should be good.


	4. Chap 4: Marvel Mystery

**Chapter 4: Marvel Mystery**

The Winchester Model 1873 is called the "gun that won the West". Jaime Slade uses it now to shoot the Remington from Spymaster's hands. He sees the sniper rifle land in Bedrock Creek. Eyes wide, he considers the cowgirl on the ridge overlooking him. Apparently, he underestimated ol' four-eyes there.

Hitting the dirt, Spymaster takes cover behind some rocks. He lobs several smoke grenades to conceal his next movements.

"Those won't hide you from me," a woman's voices speaks inside the hitman's head.

Disquieted, Spymaster scans the nearby burbling brook. Bleeding Misty Knight bobs dead in the net that electrocuted her. A wee east of her, the rifle lies on the stream bottom. The commando must fetch his M24 from the channel. He runs into the water to do so. The electrified net should be inactive by now. And, presently, the cowgirl is not firing shots, for whatever reason. There are momentarily no threats. So, Nathan Lemon proceeds with optimism. He might manage to get from the creek both his rifle and Misty's corpse. He has amusing plans for both.

Above, Jaime Slade removes her glasses and places them in a nice case. Preternaturally, her pink complexion blanches to ghostly white, and her clothing takes on a spectral glow. She rides forth from Green Mountain overlooking the scoundrel Spymaster. Justice shall soon be upon him. Asudden, another ghostly rider and his alabaster steed gallop past her like two bats out of hell. Jaime Slade smiles.

At the Bedrock, the outlaw retrieves his long gun and scans the vicinity for hostiles. Spymaster looks right and sees no one. He looks left and sees nothing. Asudden, a horse's screaming neigh echoes over the environs. Startled Spymaster looks straight ahead. In the far distance, a charging equine disturbs the dust like an approaching cyclone, like an approaching nightmare. Nathan feels unease. How could the closing beast have clamored so powerfully? Hurriedly, Spymaster dumps the water from his firearm. This assault weapon is no durable AK-47, but it should fire fine. It has to. Spymaster looks through the scope for the man and mount whom he shall kill.

Impossibly, the rider is already four furlongs away. His creature could not have moved so swiftly. But, it has. Possibly, the tempestuous mustang galloped through mid-air. Impossibly, it does now, leaving the plain. Upon this storming steed, a wraithy cowboy sits. He resembles the riflewoman from the ridge. This weird rider too wears all-white garb that glows like the moon in the afternoon light. The approaching avenger too wears a cape that unfurls like archangel's wings behind him. Unlike four-eyes, this lone ranger wears a mask over his face. It has neither mouth nor nose, only eyes to glare through a sinner. Toward Nathan Lemon, the legendary Phantom Rider rushes upon the winds.

But, Lemon has never encountered Phantom Rider. The espionage elite keeps current with the likes of Iron Man, Iron Fist, Silver Sable, and even Titanium Man. But, any serious Spymaster never prepares for ghosts. Even back to Ted Calloway, ghosts are a neglected contingency. Spooked, the operative controls his fear. He aims his equalizer. Impossibly, the charger bolts over the creek's surface—without breaking it. Colleen Wing could have warned Nate Lemon about the spirited Slades 'round these parts (not that she would have).

Phantom Rider quickdraws his two six-shooters. The left one shoots the scope from the M24 and ricochets a bullet off Spymaster's Kevlar-covered face. Spymaster startles. The right gun shoots the barrel entirely from the sniper rifle. The assassin gasps in amazement. The left pistol explodes the remaining Remington to bits. Shrapnel sprays. Spymaster's flinch saves his eyeballs. His body armor protects his features and throat. He opens his eyes. Phantom Rider is but fifty feet from him. The right revolver shoots something from Spymaster's sinister hip. That thing drops into the drink.

"I am vengeance!" shouts Hamilton Slade, the Phantom Rider, having holstered his handguns.

Vengeance visits the villain. The bronco beats forward. From above, Phantom Rider uppercuts outlaw unbelievably, flipping evildoer's form a full somersault through the air. Lemon lands face-down into the creek's silt. Underwater, he raises his fouled face. His peepers go wide. Phantom Rider shot a grenade off of Spymaster's belt! That is what Rider removed from his left hip! It is inches from the villain's visage. The professional punk prays to his body armor to save him.

The petard detonates like old-time dynamite. The explosion sends Spymaster into the Big Sky before downing him into the Bedrock muck. Sediment splats down upon the supervillain, and he lies still in the stream. The concussion has knocked him silly. Semi-conscious, Spymaster takes a moment to re-orientate as the earth spins beneath and around him. Over yon, Spymaster spies the steel net that slew the Dragon's Daughter. It eddies around empty in the current. Misty Knight is escaped! Crap!

"Hey, pardner, look right," a distaff voice revisits dizzy Lemon's head.

Spymaster gets to his knees and splashes cold water on his masked face. He tries to look right and proper for the lady ingressing him. Then, something witchy whinnies to the right. Spymaster looks. Through a haze, he sees a hoary horse who is half-translucent at the moment, as befits its name. Banshee is the Phantom Rider's stallion. The eidolic animal stands stark against the substantial sylvan landscape, and the equine apparition stokes what fear lies suppressed within Spymaster. Nathan beholds the bestial boogeyman before him.

Then, he notices something. Over Banshee's hindquarters, Misty Knight lies draped. Spymaster studies Misty's solid rump and legs on one side of the horse's rump and left leg. On the other side, he can see her still breast and slack face as through a muslin shroud. Suddenly, her boot budges. Spymaster blinks rapidly in disbelief, and his teeth clench.

Misty Knight is alive, dammit! In his rattled mind, Spymaster replays her death. Recollecting the details, Spymaster realizes that Knight grabbed the electrified net with her right hand under the water. Her right hand is her bionic one. Spymaster realizes that Stark Industries must have built the hand to handle high voltage. In fact, the espionage elite now recalls that spec from the blueprints when he hacked into them on-line. Dammit, he really should have just fired another rifle round.

From above, four spent cartridges plink into the rill. Spymaster looks up.

"I am he who rides the night winds," a disembodied voice warns.

Overhead, the Phantom Rider manifests against the heavens. Spymaster beholds the marvelous maverick descend to his mysterious mount.

"Beware, cowering cur!" Phantom Rider juts a fearsome finger and trembles, "I shall soon pursue you under the stygian, starless sky of midnight!"

The rider cracks the reins, and the spectral steed sprints away like a stormgust. In the distance, the Phantom Rider meets his daughter and gently transfers the wounded to her. They ride away swiftly for the Continental Divide's dark crags.

Nathan Lemon crawls from the creek and removes his mask. His face aches from being shot at and blown up. Behind his anxious visage, Lemon's mind races for a moment. Normally, the spy controls his nerves masterfully. But, the professional cannot believe that this failure is happening—again. The perfect planner cannot accept this plot's inconceivable failure. He speculates sarcastically aloud that Misty Knight, upon that horse's ass, must lead a charmed life. Supernatural saviors are always arriving to her rescue. Master Khan manifested in Manhattan, and Phantom Riders have now shown-up in Montana. Both magical parties have made Spymaster feel helpless and miserable. Cursing kismet, the miserable miscreant man shudders with impotent rage (and underlying fear). Spymaster needs this supernatural s**t to stop. He needs some success. He needs a good kill to reward his bad deeds and to bring him some peace and just rewards.

A surprise touch startles the assassin. From nowhere, Pavane appears, hand on his shoulder.

The cat informs the rat, "We have our prize."

Spymaster gathers his composure, "What?"

She grins. "You look like you've seen a phantom," Pavane stands over him.

Lemon ogles her over. "You look like you _are_ a phantom," Nathan secretly thinks.

Kneeling, Spymaster sees her fair tresses loft into the breeze. Above him, she is garbed for bathing the body. But two brief wraps obscure her figure, one over her bust and one below her waist. Spymaster examines the faint dissection scar—over belly and breastbone—left by executioner (Wing) or undertaker. He notices the red blood on her hands contrasting with the white of her skin. Upon her bare feet, Nathan notices the dark dirt as though she were a walker of the earth. Like Lilith, this femme fatale has crept up on him. Few things surprise Spymaster. Spymaster has faced freaks before such as She-Hulk, Sandman, Living Lightning, and Wasp. Almost all "superheroes" are the supernatural, that which is outside the "possible". Almost all marvels are amazing fantasy brought to life. However, those encountered Avengers are wonders to intelligence operative Lemon. Phantom avengers and an undead Pavane, inexplicably returned from the grave, are haunting mysteries who. . . . .

Wait a minute. Something suddenly clicks.

Spymaster seeks clarity, "Wait, Pavane. Did you just announce the death of. . . . ."

"Indeed," the living dead girl completes his thought.

"Gee. No s**t," declares the dastard about his great victory.

Pavane raises her stained hands for Spymaster to see. She explains, "I lifted Danny Rand's severed head with these two very hands." Her fingers go into her mouth. She sucks and samples the congealed crimson upon them.

"Tastes like butterscotch," she comments.

Spymaster reflects (internally) that the resurrected Pavane seems a bit ghoulish and scary at times.

The scarleted creature sallies to the brook. At the shore, she stoops to wash the dirty deed from her paws. Spymaster watches her in her savage pulchritude. The afternoon sun gives her moistened skin a certain tantalizing fire, and the western rays enter her golden locks. Pavane preens prettily like her namesake, the peahen, and her plush plenty pleases her admirer's eye. However, the wily watcher realizes that this bird is a beast of a different sort, and he might be wise to avoid her. After this job, let him collect the money that is the concern of man and avoid this unnatural thing under God's sun.

"We need to leave," Spymaster directs Pavane, "Colleen Wing returns soon. And, our employer Beliar wants a corpse to go."

Pavane takes direction like a feline. She stretches fully before her "master". Then, she shimmies along the sand on all fours until she lowers her lips to bestially lap the brook. Her pert tail juts into the air, and Spymaster inhales sharply. He considers her bent pliable back and her fit pardine legs. The temptress lifts dripping tresses from the stream. From beneath them, one amorous eye meets male gaze.

"Take a picture, Spymaster. It'll last longer," Pavane flirts. She winks. Spymaster gulps.

This bourgeois lady is not who she was. Granted, the Surrey scofflaw has always had a whip, pet panthers, and an "immodest" wardrobe. However, the wealthy eccentric has always seemed more the animal-keeper than the animal. The old assassin is a different kind of predator now.

"We need to go," Spymaster tries again to command the dangerous creature.

"Go? No, let us dally in nature a wee," the British bird sing-songs sitting seductively.

"Yes. Go. Now," the master points to Rand's cabin. He imagines that Iron Fist's body lies there.

"No, naughty Natty-boy," Pavane answers eying prey, "Let us enjoy _our_ nature a while."

Inexplicably, Pavane appears inches from Spymaster! Like a panther, she has covered yards of ground in a blink. Like a brute, she grabs the big handgun on Nathan's waist, and she jerks him powerfully closer. Her strong hand seizes his scalp. Her stiff palm presses his back. She embraces the coy boy and commands "Kiss me". Pavane puckers up. Non-consensually, she pulls him toward her.

Nathan Lemon looks into her eyes. Eternity looks back into him, but it is the forever of eternal damnation that burns in her ebon orbs. Lemon nearly cries aloud. From her mouth, the witchy woman wafts the brimstone breath of Hades. From her maw, the hag wriggles her serpentine tongue roughly over the man's cheek and roughly into his earhole. She withdraws her gross member to speak.

The creature hisses, "I am Riglevio from the pit, the abyss toward which you approach, Nathan Lemon. I am the infernal voice in your ear, and I am the mentor who will one day deliver you into chaos. You have embraced me throughout your life, and you will enter my perdition upon your death."

Spymaster's wide mortal eyes gape into the infinite depths of Riglevio's. "What do you want?" he quivers.

"Nothing, which is what any demon wants. Nothing," Pavane's pretty puss looks back playfully into Nathan's, "Nothing except your understanding. Now, follow me."

In the catbird, the group's leader skips blithely barefoot over the ground toward Whirlwind and Chaka. The group's designated leader follows with grinding teeth and hesitant gait. He needs to get the hell out of Montana and the hell away from this demoniac soon.

In the escape van, Spymaster puts on a brave face, worthy of a pro dissembler. He is in the driver's seat taking the killer quartet down State Highway 434 toward Helena and that city's airport. In a quilt, Danny Rand rides along dead as cargo. Nervously, leader Lemon jokes with his subordinates Chaka and Whirlwind who are not feeling so well, nursing their burns and impalements and such.

"I love hunting in Montana," Spymaster quips, "My rifle dropped Misty Knight like a mule deer doe."

"Why isn't Knight riding along with her boyfriend Rand?" Chaka inquires, "We could have delivered one body for the culinary and one carcass for the taxidermy."

"Indeed, Rand's severed head could have been Beliar's headcheese, and Knight's could have been my manor's wall mount," Pavane mentions morbidly. Chaka and Whirlwind chuckle.

Nate titters, "Yeah well, the creek's current took her, so I encountered irresistible forces. Otherwise, I had plans for the departed. Her death photos would have been part of my professional vita."

"Do you know what I would have done?" Whirlwind asks, "I would have left the dear meat in the cabin's refrigerator for her companion Colleen Wing to find. And, I would have left a note."

"That is kind of a twisted trope well-used," Pavane points-out.

"Well, I like it," David Cannon comments, "I am kind of a misogynist. Just ask Janet van Dyne."

"I do not judge, Dave darling. I am somewhat a misandrist," Pavane places her paw upon Nathan's knee. The steersman tries not to be distracted.

"Wing!" Chaka startles everyone, "Colleen Wing this way comes."

Thomas Arn points to twelve o'clock. He must have owl eyes. Colleen's truck comes northbound a half-mile away. Going south, the sinners soon see the pick-up that went for a supply run. Passing them, the warrior detective does not even detect them. Nathan Lemon is out of costume, and Pavane is (momentarily) invisible up-front. Behind them, Whirlwind and Chaka sit within the van. The criminals consider killing Colleen.

"We could change our plans, kids. We could kill Wing now instead of later. She has neither Iron Fist nor Misty Knight to help her," Spymaster suggests. Surreptitiously, the schemer would not mind the samurai possibly slaying a certain demon. If Wing killed Pavane again, the hero would help the hood greatly.

"I don't feel like spinning around to confront her," states the Human Top, "Iron Fist gave me these g****m burns! And, I don't feel like adding windburn atop them when I don't feel so hot."

"I also have an owie," Chaka raises his arm wrapped like a mummy.

Pavane smirks, "Indeed, we have had enough excitement for one day. We'll kill Colleen Wing some other time."

Beside her, the master focuses upon the road and follows her tacit command. The van travels into the arriving evening dark. Within his wraps, Iron Fist twitches a finger.

In the dusk, Colleen Wing arrives at the lodge site. She is shocked to see that a cyclone seems to have gone through. A stranger on horseback looks back at her. Behind the horse, Misty Knight lies upon a travois stretcher from a bygone era. Wing's partner appears unconscious and wan beneath a flocculent wool blanket. Misty shudders in physical shock and looks like Death seizes her soon. Colleen breaks from her own emotional shock and exits her truck. The Daughter of the Dragon sprints to her sister's side.

Jaime Slade speaks, "I am Jaime Slade. I have called for a medivac. The spirits willing, your friend should survive. Following an ambush, she has been tough as iron nails so far."

Slade dismounts from her horse, now brindle. Wing scrutinizes her from her tan boots to her blue jeans to her plaid flannel shirt. The investigator looks her in her bespectacled face, "You do not quite look like a legend, Ms. Slade. But, I am glad that the spirits brought you to Misty when she needed it."

Prof. Slade scrutinizes the stoic samurai comforting the wounded warrior, wrapped and waiting. Colleen Wing certainly seems strong. The Phantom Rider kens that Colleen should know Daniel Rand's sad fate. Jaime hears helicopter blades nearing. She approaches Colleen and gently strokes her back. Colleen wonders what the cowgirl wants.

The strange woman speaks, "I should tell you about the battle between Iron Fist and his foes." Slade sighs. Wing wonders warily what there is to know.


	5. Chap 5: Aw, Shoot!

**Chapter 5: Aw, Shoot!**

"Do you reckon they got a death wish?" Jaime Slade asks her father Hamilton on his horse.

"Nah. But, I'm going to make them wonder if they do," the Phantom Rider answers her, riding beside him. Beneath him, Banshee nickers with enthusiasm.

Beneath them both are three miles of air. The two unearthly rangers ride their strange steeds across the night sky. Far below them is the Bighorn River and I-90 northwest of Billings. Ahead of the peculiar pursuers, a fleeing jet flits four assassins far away to Connecticut.

"I told them 'I shall soon pursue you under the stygian, starless sky of midnight'," says Hamilton. His breath is a hoary mist at this altitude. He has his mask pulled back the better to talk to his daughter.

She answers, "Well, we are under a new moon this evening. So, it is a dark night, if not stygian and starless."

"True, it is also three hours to twelve o'clock, so it is midnight somewhere," Phantom Rider pulls down his haunting mask, "Sometimes, you have got to speak the superhero speak to scare the bad guys. It is our duty as avenging apparitions."

"Sure, we Ghost Riders are cursed to chase the devil's herd across the endless skies," Jaime jokes pointing to the felons' flight.

"Yippie yi ooh, yippie yi yay," Dad plays along, "Drew in Texas loves that tune too. He sings it while flying over the prairie." Drew Daniels is Ranger ally Texas Twister.

"Speaking of Ranger allies," the rightside Rider raises, "Do we have another Montana Marvel awaiting on the ground? We could use three heroes against four villains."

Hamilton replies, "Yeah, I contacted him through the ether. We should be okey-dokey."

"All right then, we've pursued these murdering varmints since Helena. Let's head them off at the pass," Jaime indicates the Pryor Mountains.

Phantom Rider cracks the reins, and Banshee sprints across the sky. The she-specter pursues close behind, but she is willing to let her sire put the first good scare into the scoundrels. And actually, the proud daughter would not be surprised if the legendary luminous lawman took them all down.

Spymaster takes the jet upward a bit. He does not want to encounter turbulence from the earth. Around him, Nathan Lemon sees black. Beneath him, he sees the few lights of the eastern Montana landscape. The badland below is a sparsely populated place, and Spymaster feels safely isolated in the plane's sealed cockpit. He does not want to be back with his passengers and their cargo. One is a demon. One is a dead man, for whose life he will surely pay. One seems another demon. Whirlwind is okay. All things considered, Spymaster wants to simply sit in the pilot's chair with his mask upon the empty co-captain seat and his headset snuggling his head.

Then, Nate hears apparent horse hooves on the plane roof, and he wonders what the hell is going on.

Under the roof, a terrible trio rides in the cabin. Chaka sits by the left window and gazes into the gloom. Whirlwind sits by the right window and continually winces in pain. Chemical burns can be quite distracting. To the aft, Pavane has planted her ass upon the metal casket containing Iron Fist. "I sit on your grave," the vengeful woman tells him.

Suddenly, someone raps raucously upon the glass next to Whirlwind. He startles. An eerie, great glow shines into his eyes. The freakish phosphorescence wanes slightly, and Phantom Rider becomes discernable. Kneeling, he rides the wing outside of the speeding jet. His cape flaps in the air current. His wide eyes blaze in his bone-white mask.

"Boo," Phantom Rider speaks audibly through the howling winds and the thick window, "C'mon out, Cannon! And, face justice!"

David Cannon is temporarily stupefied. Across the aisle, Thomas Arn is too. They just sit there slack-jawed. The Rider steps back a few paces and prepares an attack. He twirls and throws a lariat. Like a scary Pecos Bill, Phantom Rider ropes a whirlwind. An intangible line lassoes Whirlwind and yanks him through steel without rupturing the fuselage. To his astonishment, he is abruptly outside in the chilling, buffeting draft. It rips his breath away and abrades his already burnt skin. Instinctively, the mutant activates his powers to protect himself. Whirlwind's funnel protect him from the passing gale, but his rotation cannot snap the enchanted tether.

The specter gets dead-serious. The Phantom is done playing like a poltergeist with his prey. Effortlessly, the manhunter jerks the mutant from his funnel. The Night Rider's jab strikes Cannon like a lightning bolt. Above the whistling wind, his battlewhoop echoes like thunder. The villain shudders.

The vigilante pronounces, "David Cannon, you have murdered a man this day. Daniel Rand lies dead. And, for this misdeed, you shall burn in hellfire!"

The rope ignites upon David Cannon's skin. These flames are much worse than the previous insults, for they are no ordinary flames. This eldritch ring of fury agonizes the flesh, yes. But, it also sears rightly into a sinner's very soul. The supervillain falls shrieking and howling with the passing squall. He passes out. Coldly, the Spirit of Vengeance releases the man and allows him to tumble into the pitch night beneath the flying vessel.

The Phantom Rider stomps forward toward other business. The eidolic avenger phases through the steel wall into the plane. Ululating, fearsome Chaka greets him spinning his calescent crackling triple-iron above his terrible tigrine visage. Chaka would dispatch the cowboy quickly, but Phantom Rider turns invisible in a blink. For a second, peepers flutter. In an instant, the Rider reappears inches away from foe. His fists do some quick talking. Chaka drops his weapon and staggers back.

The rattled goon pulls himself erect and squares his shoulders. Growling, he raises his arms into fighting position—including his wounded one. He warns, "I should warn you, fool, I am a black belt in kung-fu. You shall not strike me again."

"S**t," Phantom Rider pshaws, "I would spit on the deck if I didn't have this mask over my face."

The Ranger puts up his dukes. The Tiger strides forward. Foolishly, a corporeal one-armed man prepares to fight an intangible pugilist whom he can neither hit nor block. He soon discovers his foe's advantage. Chaka grunts, groans, and moans painfully with each wallop that Phantom Rider lands. In the corner, Pavane sits amused observing. She grins. Pavane can be a little catty.

Outside the plane, Banshee stomps forward toward his purpose. The Rider's ready companion shall be a cayuse of chaos. His heavy footfalls rattle pilot Lemon immensely. When the horse hops onto the plane's nose, Spymaster sits stupefied. Sans hesitation, Banshee bucks, and the beast's hooves crash through the windshield and controls. The glass shatters utterly. The console's metal and plastic shatter utterly. The jet's controls are entirely inutile, and the craft begins to careen hurly-burly across the sky. The cockpit de-pressurizes, and internal gas escapes airplane and aviator's intestines. In his seat, a ninny is entirely trapped by the huge horse head in his face. Peripherally, Spymaster sees his mask go flying away, and Nathan feels naked without it. Without impelling instruments, the jet's engines die, and the ferrous fuselage dives toward the earth. Spymaster cannot breathe. Banshee snorts brimstone breath into his face. The blackguard gasps. He feels a wee faint in the ethereal atmosphere.

Equine apparition pronounces, "Nay! Thou shalt not get away! I say!" The horse can talk.

Lack of oxygen has not disabled the two demoniacs riding the doomed dart downward. However, Phantom Rider definitely has Chaka dizzy and dazed. A haymaker floors the foul fighter again. His head spun, Chaka genuflects wobbly on one knee. Facing away, "Arn" blinks the nictitating membranes of his abruptly avian eyes. His left hand becomes a big owlish talon. And, this sturdy talon swipes the walking wendigo. Incredibly, claw successfully slices side. Phantom Rider screams, and mortal blood flows.

"Demon!" the Ghost Rider realizes instantly.

"Who? Me?" the owl asks acerbically.

"You damned, diabolical varmint s**o*ab****!" the cowboy cries.

The hero's hand draws a bowie knife, keen as Chaka's claw. Unmercifully, the avenger stabs the big, bad blade through the adversary's good arm. Chaka falls to both knees and wails in woe. Unexpectedly, Phantom Rider raises his nemesis' nunchucks and activates their awesome electricity.

The conquering champion points to the steel floor. "Back to the depths, hellspawn!" he proclaims.

Rider winds-up to flail the floor from beneath churl Chaka. A bullwhip cracks across his back instead. It cuts the cape from his immaterial costume. It rends his discarnate flesh. More mortal blood flows from mysterious body. A hard man, the cowboy completes his task and busts the bottom from beneath the outlaw. The condemned man drops to his death. It seems.

A mere mile over earth, a monster metamorphosizes. "Chaka" expands his inner impish being through his human clothes and skin, which both rip away. Revealed, the creature is a man-sized humanoid owl—with currently two wounded wings currently. Screeching, the abomination plummets toward the east Montana plain. . . . .

On the plane, she-beast Pavane scourges Phantom Rider again and again. Scarlet spatters as she smiles while shredding his costume and skin. The debutante demon would see the Western spirit tamed and broken.

Bellowing, Phantom Rider brings forth his sidearms, "You're gonna whip me? Then, Imma gonna whup you!"

Slade's six-shooters sever Pavane's weapon in two places. Leather lash lands limply upon the floor. Hamilton holds his guns straight before him. Furiously, his supernormal six-shooters shoot thirteen successive times into his target seven feet away. Sulfurous smoke streams from the hag's holes. Black blood bubbles from her bosom, and she wheezes for wind. The gunfighter holsters his irons and gives her a steely stare. Defiantly, the demon looks back. Determinedly, Hamilton Slade clenches his fist and frees his belt. He is going to give her the promised proper whupping. Whiffing sharply, ersatz Pavane shambles toward the showdown. She makes like two pistols with her empty hands.

"I've bested you once, Ranger. And, I'll do so again," says the thing hiding behind human features. The dualists face each other. Her face has piggish eyes and crocodile's teeth, and the ghost guardian gazes into it. Hamilton Slade's extrasensory perception scries beneath she-beast's skin.

Phantom Rider realizes, "Gadzooks, I know you!"

Without warning, the cockpit door violently comes between Phantom Rider and Pavane. Banshee capriole-kicks Spymaster through the solid threshold, spraying splinters, shards, and sections. Spymaster lands between the two cabin combatants. Ever the scrapper, Spymaster pulls a handgun, and a horse's ass aims for a horse's ass. But, Banshee bucks backwards once again and stomps emphatically upon the hitman's hand and gun. Squawking, Spymaster seemingly calls it a day. He even lies nicely still in surrender beneath the bronco. He even pitches the pressed pistol out of the hole in the plane's floor. Then, the plane pitches into a nosedive. The crimebusting courser slides away forward until he phantastically phases through the flying machine's falling front. As the aircraft whistles ominously earthward, Spymaster listens in on the conversation above him. Phantom Rider and Pavane appear about to say some interesting stuff. Phantom Rider lifts his head and addresses himself to motion, like as he would speak. . .

Elsewhere, many miles away, Jaime Slade and David Cannon converse amidst the conifers of Custer National Forest. Moments earlier, the other Phantom Rider saw Whirlwind fall from the wing where her father fried him, and she caught him with her telekinesis before flitting him away to the forest. Above the tree tops, she suspended him and considered his slack, semi-conscious form. He murmured a wish for today's fight to be over, and she heard him through the magic of telepathy. Into the dark woods, she lowered herself and him until eighteen feet over ground. From her waist, her long lariat slithered forth into the darkness. Her glowing glove pointed, and his worried eyes looked.

"My vengeance is much worse than my father's," the womanly Night Rider states presently. There is a noose hanging from a high branch. Worried eyes go wide.

Phantom Rider pronounces, "You killed a man today, David Cannon. And, for that evil deed, you will hang high from the boughs for the crows to peck and the breezes to carry. And, may the Devil carry off your soul!"


	6. Chap 6: Sakes Alive!

**Chapter 6: Sakes Alive!**

Jaime Slade prepares to avenge Danny Rand. The empty noose hangs awaiting. Wearied Whirlwind moans in protest. Desperately, he tries to summon his mutant abilities. By her psionic faculties, Phantom Rider raises David Cannon quickly skyward. Then, she drops him swiftly as at the gallows. He screams. His lifelong sins flash before his mind's eye. 'Twould seem Mephisto will soon collect him.

But, at the last second, the hero flips the villain inverted. Ankle enters the noose instead of neck. The hanging hemp snaps tight and straightens, spraining lout's leg. Whirlwind is utterly finished, and he passes out. Upside down, Davey dangles limply like dead game. Fearsome Phantom beholds her helpless catch. Jaime Slade deliberates. On one hand, Whirlwind has had enough, and Jaime Slade could summon a sheriff to come get the supervillain. Her good-hearted ancestor Carter Slade—the original Ghost Rider—would approve. He was a "white hat" in this West. On the other hand, although the Night Rider has generously spared this murderer's life, he seems to still owe an unholy debt. Within Jaime, Carter's brother Lincoln also speaks to her conscience, and Lincoln Slade was a wrathful, unmerciful, perverted, vengeful vigilante. Phantom Rider removes her revolver, and her peacemaker begins wickedly pistolwhipping her incapacitated, injured, agonized enemy. Guilty blood spills and spatters. It stains the hard ground and Jaime's grin.

Above Jaime and her actions, Hamilton Slade stands confronting Pavane in the plummeting plane. "Riglevio!" the other Phantom Rider names the demon, "Where's your boss?"

"Mr. Beliar is unavailable right now. May I deliver your message in hell?" the dissembler puts on.

Phantom Rider guffaws, "Beliar? Like 'Belial', the devil? Is that what that California mooncalf is calling himself these days?"

"Martin took the name of an old evil from a great dark age," mistress Pavane is master Martin's apologist. Prince Beliar operated in King Arthur's time during the Dark Ages, unbeknownst to the Rider.

"Well, I guess," Prof. Slade scratches his chin, "Martin Preston is a malicious actor."

"I have been known to be a malicious actor too," the demoness gloats, "For example, I impersonated your teammate Shooting Star for a bit, and you were totally fooled. I made a fool of you, your Rangers, and the entire West Coast Avengers [see _West Coast Avengers_ #8]."

"That's true. You especially made a fool of Texas Twister whom you were romancing," Phantom Rider admits, "However, I reckon your jig is up now, Riglevio, if that is your real name." Phantom's thumb points to his left.

Riglevio-Pavane looks to her right. She sees nothing. She wonders whether the wight tricks the trickster. For a centi-second, the evil-loving she-devil smiles expecting a sucker-punch. Then, through the bow breach, she notices blazing Banshee returning, and her s**-eating grin vanishes. His glow illuminates the obsidian welkin. Like lightning, his fulgurant form schisms the dark sky and charges toward the tenebrous being. Like thunder, his hooves hammer the air itself. Like a cavalry bugle, Banshee's scream blasts before him. The scream shakes the plummeting shuttle and shivers the occupants' spines. The peal rips the glamor from pernicious polymorph Pavane. The shriek shreds her scant clothing and flays her false flesh. In true form, she stands revealed Riglevio, Shooting Star's usurper and impersonator of Pavane. The terrible "temptress" has green, scaly skin stretched over a short snout and a cadaverous figure. The nude netherling hisses in disgust. Onlooking Spymaster has disgust too. He recently romanced her.

The storming stallion arrives. Like an exorcist, the stalwart steed shouts "God by ye, devil-woman", for the stern spirit would have the demon depart but not fare well. Banshee charges his great head into Riglevio's thin chest and chomps his strong teeth onto her slender shoulder before sweeping her away. Effortlessly, Phantom Rider swings himself into the saddle as Banshee passes. From the floor, Spymaster sees them all gallop into oblivion and the shadows. The departing specters and spooks do not even burst through the plane body. On the doomed craft, only stunned Spymaster and dead Danny remain. Nathan Lemon sighs and thinks of how to make lemonade. The elite commando resolves to survive. He considers options. . . . .

The plane crashes. With severe force, the steel skids and skips speedily over the scrub sending soil skyward. It scrapes the rocky ground and creates sparks that ignite the low brush. With a jolt, the jet hits a hill and spirals high before slamming to a hard stop. Inside, Spymaster lies supine and inert. He tries collecting his thoughts despite the dullness in his head and the pain in his guts. Outside, a grass fire gathers strength, and it slinks ever closer to the wreck and its spilled fuel. While flames approach outside, icy objects slide across the atilt floor toward injured man within the wreck. Spymaster feels an ice chunk reach his cheek. For a second, he wonders where it came from. Then, he remembers that he wisely procured a coffin before visiting Montana, and he wisely placed frozen blocks in the bottom compartment. By these prudent designs, deceased Iron Fist and his stench would not bother the airship's occupants while in transit to faraway Connecticut. Iron Fist's body would be sealed and chilled. It might even be meat well-preserved for Beliar to eat in the Nutmeg State. The rough landing must have accidentally opened the box.

Cold water dribbles into Nathan Lemon's ear. Irritated, he glares at the melting ice. Shocked, his eyes go wide. Just beyond the block, there rests Daniel Rand's detached head. And, beyond the pale, its eyes flutter, and its mouth snarls at him.

The wan face wheezes, "Youuu baaastard!"

Around the downed plane, fires flare as grass meets gasoline. Their crackle is loud. Their light is intense. Spymaster smells their smoke as he feels chilled as hell within. He must escape this damned place and the undead things haunting it. The espionage elite ejaculates in agony the moment that he moves. When he sits up, his abdomen erupts like the inferno approaching. When he falls back down, internal blood gushes from his guts to his gullet. And, he gurgles and chokes on it. The supervillain spits and aspirates scarlet fluid and crimson chunks. He gasps. He recalls that enemies have sometimes told him to "die in a fire", and he understands that he is probably about to f'n do so. Deplorable Nathan Lemon relaxes. He awaits whatever wretched creature comes to claim him.

Headless Iron Fist really startles the s**t out of Spymaster. The headless hero's body plods from one end of the plane to the other. Spymaster watches the 5'3" being, normally 5'11", draw near. Fiendish Fist palms Rand's cranium in his left hand, and he takes Nate's collar in his right. Perhaps summoning chi, the seemingly Immortal Iron Fist sprints far from the hot zone. Along the way, Spymaster faints—perhaps from pain.

The airplane explodes. The resounding rumble awakens Spymaster slightly. Through eye slits, he sees wheat above him waving in the evening wind. Iron Fist has dropped him on the firmament in a farmer's fertile field. With effort, he examines his environment, ebon under the new moon. Stars swim through his head, and stars flow past above. Semi-conscious Spymaster watches them twinkle, and he observes their light psychedelically trace over him. Suddenly, they scintillate sharply into his eyes. Or rather, something shines above him.

A silver-haired young woman in silvery attire appears over Spymaster. She simply teleports in. She looks down on him and quickly decides that he is beneath her. She sniffs curtly and strides away.

"Mr. Rand," the powerful woman calls the revivified man with respect, "Could you please accompany me to New York."

Spymaster ogles the shimmering portal behind the sorceress. Apparently, it could take him to some of the finest medical care in the country, and he would presently really like that. But, grievously-injured Iron Fist gets to depart instead. Head in hands, "deceased" Iron Fist walks into the light and toward the gate. His blue lips mouth an obscenity at Spymaster before leaving. In a flash, the duel Defenders are gone. The woozy man closes his lids and drifts toward oblivion. In this state, Will "Red Wolf" Talltrees discovers him. Talltrees begins first aid as he learned in the military. As a hero, Red Wolf aids even adversaries. A piece away, emergency crews battle the blaze on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation.

A piece away from that, the two Phantom Riders reunite and admire Hamilton's heroic handiwork. Riglevio lies hogtied on the earth while Banshee keeps one hoof on her back.

Daughter Jaime reports, "Dad, I disposed of murderous Whirlwind in the woods south of here. I considerately contacted law enforcement to get the defeated, disarmed, and defanged degenerate."

Dad chuckles. He points, "Well, murderous Riglevio lies in the dirt where she belongs."

Jaime inquires, "That thing impersonated Pavane?"

"Yep, this ugly thing likes to impersonate blonde beauties," the man reminisces, "Remember the critter that stole Shooting Star's identity? I used to tell you the story. Well, this rambunctious rascal is it."

"What a dumb dog," the cowgirl comments, "First, Firebird foiled her pernicious plans [see _West Coast Avengers_ #8]. Then, Texas Twister and Hawkeye handled her mightily [see _Solo Avengers_ #18].

"Yeah, some people you just don't mess with," concludes the cowboy.

"My master is one. Here he is now," prostrate "Pavane" points her chin.

Indeed, Mr. Beliar has appeared from nowhere. His appearance surprises the two Ghost Riders, normally attuned to the evil around them.

"Good evening, Mr. Martin Preston," Hamilton calls the human demon by his actual name.

Beliar smirks with swagger, "Good midnight, Hamilton Slade and comely family."

"Are you just out for a walk in your three-piece suit?" Hamilton asks drolly.

Dapper Beliar answers, "I am here to rescue demon-in-distress Riglevio and return her safely to her profane kin the Rakasha."

"The Rakasha are her goddamned kin," Avenger acknowledges the family profanity, "However, I cannot allow you to re-acquire one of the iniquitous agents usually occupying your obscene womb, Master Pandemonium." Phantom Rider calls the man his alter ego.

The supervillain snickers "I have a womb, do I? You wish to roast Beliar and his belly, do you?"

"Don't get hysterical, or I'll roast you s' more," the superhero retorts.

Master Pandemonium explains himself "I am the gatekeeper for the Rakasha. I deliver them to Earth, but I do not 'birth' them. That would be weird."

The female Phantom speaks. "The Rakasha are actually why you are called Master Pandemonium, Mr. Preston," Prof. Jaime Slade shows that she knows a thing or two, "Pandemonium is the mythic hall of devils. Through diabolical magic, your very body holds an entire demon horde."

"Your body is actually nothing more than soft flesh over incorporeal ectoplasm. You are a soft man," Prof. Hamilton Slade schools further.

"And, you two phantoms lack substance," Master Pandemonium retorts, "For example, you do not even have the true grit to. . . . ."

"Don't make me laugh, pardner," Hamilton has hubris, "I am the Chosen One of the West."

Beliar feigns regard, "Oh, well, I should offer you golden, cream-filled sponge cakes to sate you perhaps."

"And, I should feed you a bullet," Phantom Rider puts his hand to his sidearm.

Without a further word, in an instant, Master Pandemonium flings two furious fireballs that drop Hamilton and Banshee then and there. The western stand-off is finished in a blink of Beliar's eye. Jarred, jawslack Jaime tries comprehending the sight of her dropped daddy and the collapsed horse. Without further banter, Master Pandemonium simply absorbs Riglevio back into his being. Imp oozes from her bonds, and the ropes lie empty upon the ground. Enraged, the remaining Rider levitates and illuminates the darkness fiercely.

"You light the heavens from on-high, but you are no angel, darling," Pandemonium tells her, "From the shadows, I saw what you did to helpless Whirlwind. You are as much of a fallen being as any of the Pandemonium, and I bring you low now."

Suddenly, Azmodeus divebombs from the black above. His body brings heroine hard to the ground at the magus' feet. Her great glow disappears, and the phantom is no longer untouchable. Azmodeus claws her quick across the back. The Master kicks her in the teeth so that her mouth does not insult him. Both low creatures loom over her.

"My arms hurt," Azmodeus complains. He shows his handler the two broken wings. His icky ichor drips onto his prey's pate.

"Then, come home and heal, faithful familiar," Beliar brandishes an amulet from beneath his blouse. It sucks the owlish abomination within.

Sans further ceremony, Pandemonium releases other Rakasha and sics the pack upon mortal Jaime. They have tentacles and teeth, claws and clubs. They attack the usually intangible apparition. They batter and bite her, bringing forth blood and bruising her to the bone. Her beat-down proves Pandemonium's power (to her) punch-by-punch and pound-by-pound. The swarm slams her to the sod, and they threaten to really tear into her. However, Pandemonium unexpectedly pulls back the brutes before they truly maul Ms. Slade.

"The Living Owayodata approaches," the sorcerer senses, "I do not want to cross a Cheyenne deity. There are entities scarier and more powerful than even I about."

So, Beliar and his boogeymen disappear onto a cold breeze. It makes a dirty little whirlwind when it passes.

Hamilton Slade stirs. Daughter Jaime suppresses her pain so as to not disturb him. Hamilton stands unsteadily. Banshee also staggers to his feet.

Red Wolf appears. He says, "You do not look good, Hamilton."

"Master Pandemonium was here, Will," Phantom Rider answers his fellow Ranger, "He is always a tough customer. He handed us our asses."

"I see that" Red Wolf examines black-and-blue Jaime, "Was he on the plane that transported Iron Fist's body? When contacting me, you had not mentioned Master Pandemonium when mentioning the troublemakers coming this way."

"No, he was a surprise," Phantom Rider fixes his rumbled rags.

"Hmph. Yes. You look surprised," Red Wolf notes, "You should know that that plane crashed."

"I am not surprised," Phantom Rider feels some pride in bringing down criminals.

Red Wolf continues, "You should also know that Iron Fist's remains ran away after the plane crash. Crash survivor Spymaster told me so before medivac transported him to Billings."

"Well, can you get your canine Lobo to track him?" surprised Rider prepares to saddle-up on his own animal sidekick.

"No, Lobo is in the afterlife. He was killed by Skrulls. Little green men from outer space got him," Red Wolf informs.

"I bet that's quite a story," grumbles Jaime thinking about the green and gray imps and ogres who just got her.

Elsewhere, a wolf wanders through the woods. He is alone, utterly alone. There is no life astir around him, and there are no other wolves like him. He is alone until he encounters a battered, crooked man hanging inverted from a tree. The beast licks his lips and considers consuming carrion Cannon. However, the peculiar predator breathes a great huff and puff toward Whirlwind instead, and a curious current carries the criminal into the ether. A Master of Evil amuses the atrocity-loving animal. So, a moment from now, Whirlwind will re-appear in New York City where the sinner cyclone will once again cause chaos, destruction, and harm. A self-proclaimed Master of Pandemonium also amuses a King of Devils, who actually rules a hell. The wolf stands erect. Mephisto stands erect. He smiles a hideous smile. Mephisto will let Beliar's machinations play-out a little longer—before striking his servant and everyone else wickedly down.

The next sunrise, Iron Fist drums his fingers on a conference room table in Billings. "Well, this plan has gone awry," he tells Dr. Strange seated across from him.


	7. Chap 7: Break Eggs to

**Chapter 7: Break Eggs to . . .**

Iron Fist drums his fingers on the table, "Well, this plan has gone awry."

Dr. Strange sits across from him in a conference room. "Perhaps," utters the mage.

Iron Fist is a little irritated to hear "perhaps". Danny Rand has strong feelings on the present matter of discussion. He suppresses a scowl. He glances at the room's clock. It reads 6 a.m. Danny listens past the closed door into the hallway outside. Medical staff make their shift change here at Billings' main hospital.

Iron Fist inhales to control his emotions and maintain his composure. He makes eye contact with the hard eyes across from him. Both Rand and Strange are accomplished, intelligent, influential, and confident men. They must respect each other. Yet, the Young Dragon knows that he must vent his spleen no matter who the hell Dr. Strange thinks that he is.

"I am angry and concerned, Stephen," Danny communicates clearly, "Colleen Wing sits with Misty Knight upstairs currently. My love Misty is in critical condition."

"Critical but stable," clarifies the ex-physician. He hopes that his concerned companion does not find him too dismissive.

Danny bats his baby blues. Mr. Rand continues, "Furthermore, Ms. Wing believes that her good friend Danny Rand is dead. We have a mess here."

"The Phantom Riders f***ed-up many things," Dr. Strange offers an informal reply. Informality from one such as he should lighten the situation.

So, Strange seemingly shifts blame. CEO Rand is duly unimpressed. Iron Fist explains, "Stephen, not only does Colleen believe I am dead, but she has also probably contacted other parties to inform them of the death."

"I suspect that she has not," the sage elucidates, "I suspect that she suspects that you are not dead. Any superhero is skeptical about another hero's fall. Any shrewd sleuth is suspicious about reports from such a queer source as the Phantom Rider."

"Typically, Phantom Rider—whether male or female—preternaturally senses any death in his vicinity. Avengers files tell heroes so," Iron Fist counters.

"Still, she has not seen a body," Strange continues, "I doubt that she fully believes your demise real without a corpse. No one ever completely believes without seeing and touching the deceased party. Trust me. I'm a doctor."

"You are not excused from your culpability in Colleen's pain," Iron Fist clenches his fingers, "You are not excused from your responsibility in Misty's grievous injury. What the in the hell went wrong?"

"Well, what _out of_ Hell sabotaged and surprised us?" Dr. Strange tosses-up his palm, "I have done my best to determine with whom we are dealing. We—both of us—agreed to the best plan for confronting the evil threatening Earth. As Defenders, we both agreed to certain risks."

"True," Daniel Rand admits, "However, you put everyone at risk by withholding certain information, ***hole."

Dr. Strange sighs, "Let us review our recent machinations and actions, Daniel Thomas." The Master of the Mystic Arts condescendingly uses Danny's middle name.

"You detected Master Pandemonium in Springdale, Connecticut," Iron Fist initiates the autopsy.

"Correct, a Sorcerer Supreme monitors all things in his universe. I was diligently doing so when Master Pandemonium's maleficent activities came to my attention," narrates Dr. Strange, "His pet demons Riglevio and Azmodeus had murdered two men, and I sensed this horrible disturbance. By remote sensing, I took a closer look and found Pandemonium impersonating Beliar, a demoniac active fifteen centuries ago."

"This Beliar was a modernized version," Iron Fist interjects.

"Correct again, Daniel," Master Strange praises.

"This modern-day Beliar hired undemonic muscle after usurping the Springdale Bar with No Name," Iron Fist continues.

"Yes, and as I told you, the oddest thing happened," Dr. Strange takes back the discussion, "I could neither clearly see nor hear to whom the plotter Beliar propositioned your death. I could see and hear the activities of Beliar and his two demonic cronies. I could see the unfortunate Jolly Roger and Chaka hanging by meathooks in the freezer. But, something very, very powerful blocked my full surveillance. Dr. Strange and the Defenders had an important mystery on our hands. With whom was Master Pandemonium colluding?"

"Of course, we now know that Spymaster and Whirlwind were the blackguards with whom the goateed one met," Iron Fist interrupts, "Each had attempted killing me in the past. The freezer's Thomas Arn was also an old foe. And, Beliar discussed killing and consuming me. There were a lot of connections to me."

"Correct," Stephen nods, "Beliar wished to cannibalize your flesh and thereby ritually gain the power of Shou-Lao the Undying, the dragon within you."

"The usually pathetic Master Pandemonium would become powerful indeed," Danny nods back.

"He also might have pleased whatever arch-demon aided him. An evildoer really accomplishes something when he ends the Immortal Iron Fist," Dr. Strange one-ups Danny's words.

"Clandestinely, you wanted to identify Pandemonium's patron. Therefore, you contacted me, your old Defenders pal," Iron Fist speaks, "In past days, we had successfully combatted Death Celestials and Nul the Breaker of Worlds. We had saved the Universe. We were going to again. We were also going to foil Pandemonium's nefarious schemes, of course."

"Therefore, we devised this plan—which has gone awry," Dr. Strange completes his colleague's thought for him.

"The plan was a crazy one," Iron Fist continues his comrade's words for him, "You were going to copy my powers and personality and past them onto something called a Mindless One from the Dark Dimension."

"The Dark Dimension's Clea enthusiastically assisted in the powerful spell necessary to accomplish the duplication. As a Sorcerer Supreme, she had also detected terrific forces at work upon the Omniverse's vital Earth-616," Dr. Strange recalls, "And, our plan was not a crazy one. I had constructed copies of myself before. Long-time Defender Sub-Mariner had told me once about your previous doppelgangers."

"Yeah," Iron Fist recalls with a frown, "Back when, Captain Hero had apparently pounded me to pulp [see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #125]. However, Captain Hero was actually the disguised Super-Skrull who then impersonated me, and the dead 'Iron Fist' was actually a H'ylthri imposter. Extradimensional nemeses the H'ylthri had snatched me and planted a double with my personality and powers [see _Namor the Sub-Mariner_ #22-24]. Anyway, I have been duplicated and replaced before."

"And, Nightwing Restorations believed you dead during that time. When you were not, the girls recovered from their initial shock nicely," Dr. Strange points-out. He is a proud man and wishes to exonerate himself.

An Iron Fist nearly gives a middle finger. Instead, he replies, "I think that my friends have potential pain, Doctor. Do not dismiss it casually."

"Sometimes, one must break eggs to make an omelet," Dr. Strange offers, "Perhaps regrettably, I have had to do so in the past. For example, I have banished ally Hulk from Earth—twice. I have used the Darkhold when doing so for the greater good. I have altered time lines. I have erased memories. When necessary, I have used people as pawns."

"You used me as a pawn. You set me up. The Daughters too," Danny Rand gets a little terse, "Let us discuss what happened at Bedrock Creek."

"I did not know such traumas as a decapitation and Ms. Knight's various injuries would occur," Stephen throws his arms wide dismissively, "I merely told you to take your pre-scheduled vacation."

"You were my eyes on Pandemonium, Strange! You must have known that he made his move," Iron Fist fires back.

"It is true. I am an experienced champion active even longer than you have been. Furthermore, I am a semi-omniscient thaumaturge. I had a gut feeling that Master Pandemonium would make his move," Strange begrudgingly grants, "However, I did not think of you as but pawns. Pandemonium's pieces would not merely take you, a 'knight' and two more powerful pieces. I thought that you would fight back like the Daughters of the Dragon and the Immortal Iron Fist."

"They didn't easily take me. I nearly defeated the three superthugs Whirlwind, Chaka, and Pavane on my own," Iron Fist snarls, "Of course, I could have used some help. Where were you?"

"You already know, for we have already discussed that topic, my boy," Dr. Strange patronizes, "I had to remain hidden on the astral plane observing the fight. Otherwise, Beliar would not further reveal his plans. The manifest me would have scared him off."

"As an observer, you were pretty useless," Iron Fist states plainly.

"True, I could see neither Whirlwind ambush you nor Spymaster snipe Misty Knight," Strange concedes, "As stated, I was having some problems."

"Which we three paid for," thinks Iron Fist to himself. Danny stares down his companion. Both men are silent for seconds.

Dr. Strange sighs again. Perhaps, the Living Weapon and he should simply fight as marvels sometimes do after a misunderstanding. Certainly, the great Human Torch and Thing have butted heads occasionally. So have Captain America and Iron Man. And, Hulk, Silver Surfer, and Namor have fought pretty much everybody at least once. Fellow Defenders Valkyrie, Nighthawk, Son of Satan, Red Guardian, and Overmind have similar histories.

Instead of attacking Danny, Stephen explains himself, "During the cabin combat, I could perceive only that the two demons, Riglevio and Azmodeus, were there. They had you against a tree and prepared to assassinate you. Suddenly, a fail-safe activated that I had placed upon you."

"Right!" Iron Fist acknowledges angrily, "You explained that you had placed a spell upon me without my consent!"

"Correct, if someone was about to successfully slay you, magic would substitute your doppelganger in less than the blink of an eye," Strange shrugs nonchalantly, "Your assailants beheaded a Mindless One. The event actually fit our Plan B."

Iron Fist glosses, "Your Plan A was that the Daughters of the Dragon and I would defeat the two demons and any helpers. Their defeat would draw out Master Pandemonium."

Dr. Strange expounds, "Plan B was the apparent death of Iron Fist. As a dead body, the headless Mindless One would spy upon the Master's minions and himself. When prepared for consumption, the Mindless meal would explode and eliminate any evil operators around it. However, the Rangers just had to ruin my Plan B. Clea had to retrieve the doppelganger, head in its hands, instead."

"Hmph, the Rangers' meddling just breaks my f***ing heart, Stephen," Danny notes sarcastically, "My friends and I were not on-board for Plan B. We thought that we would be beating the bad guys."

"Well, then, you were a bit arrogant," Dr. Strange chastises.

Whether a physician or a magician, Stephen Strange has noticed that some people appreciate his authority and some do not. Either way, he must do what he must do to save lives. Hopefully, Iron Fist soon realizes this. The wise man hopes so. A multitude of lives could be at stake beyond Iron Fist's or Misty Knight's or anyone else's if Master Pandemonium summons some arch-fiend.

Who is Iron Fist to question Dr. Strange? Dr. Strange is he who has laid Galactus low (see _Fantastic Four_ #243), vanquished Dracula and all of his vampires (see _Doctor Strange_ v.2 #64), neutralized Magneto, defeated Loki, repelled Shuma-Gorath, expelled Satannish from the earthly plane, and freed the Brides of Set (see _Fantastic Four Annual_ #22) . Illuminati do not always have to explain themselves and convince other humanity. Not everyone is like leaders Captain America and Black Panther so concerned about ethics and honor. Some champions of humanity do break eggs to make omelets such as Tony Stark, Reed Richards, and Charles Xavier, all of whom have faked their own deaths, manipulated loved ones, kept secrets, and done whatever else when acting in others' best interests, consensually or not.

Iron Fist speaks, "I suppose that I partially agreed to your tactics and I partially did not."

Ah, there it is! "Life and circumstances are complex, my friend," Dr. Strange counsels. He stands while his companion sits.

The warrior is ready to keep the peace, for now. "Thank you for bringing me here from the Dark Dimension. I know that you would prefer that people think me still deceased," Fist says.

"You should be still concealed from enemies' sight," Dr. Strange affirms, "However, I understand your request to come here. You want Colleen Wing to know that you are actually alive and okay. Compassion dictates that I respect your free will."

"Well then," Iron Fist rises, "Let's go upstairs to see Colleen Wing and Misty Knight."


	8. Chap 8: I'm Back

**Chapter 8:** I'm Back

Colleen beholds Misty in dawn's glory. The strong Knight lies bronzed and scintillating in the golden light, and her strength touches her partner's very soul. Miraculously, Misty Knight is not even in the ICU. Such is the heart within her bosom. Knight has even been conscious and semi-lucid throughout the night while Wing has watched over her. Sometimes, the wounded woman has even asked her healthy companion how Colleen was doing, and the stoic samurai has had to suppress sentimental tears.

Warrior Wing has some joy within. It is true. However, she holds also a great rage. For the moment, she must contain a fury as fiery as Fuji's heart, for Nathan Lemon lies somewhere in this same level-two trauma center. Montana law enforcement has visited Knight's room overnight, and the New York detective has slyly acquired information through chat. Spymaster yet lives after nearly killing Colleen's Misty, and the bastard yet lives in a guarded room elsewhere on this very floor. Colleen will visit him soon. He requires interrogation. He will tell Ms. Wing whether he acted alone or in-concert, and the woman will decide what revenge she takes from there. After helping feed Misty breakfast, Colleen will go.

Involuntarily, Colleen Wing grinds her teeth, and her cheeks blush with hot blood. The samurai loses some of her habitual strict self-control. Bushido teaches that a warrior must never sin with the heart even if the fighter's life and actions are violent. In her being, Colleen begins to stray from her Shinto doctrine. Like a wolf, she fantasizes about Spymaster, and a bloodlust creeps through her.

A physician enters the room. Colleen heels her thoughts and examines the healer. Her angry eyes become surprised ones. She recognizes the face above the white labcoat.

"You are Dr. Stephen Strange," she tells the man what he already knows.

"And, you are fellow New Yorker Colleen Wing. I am glad to make your acquaintance," the spell-caster shakes her hand.

"What are you doing out here in Billings?" the intrepid investigator inquires of the incognito itinerant.

"I am here to deliver some good news," the surgeon says, "I was just speaking with. . . . ."

Strange goes abruptly quiet. Wing wonders. A male nurse enters the room. Strange smiles at him impetuously jumping the gun. Wing watches the nurse's movements in his cranberry scrubs and ogles his blond hair. He reminds her of someone, but he is not him obviously. The nurse takes a dish of scrambled eggs toward Misty. Colleen strolls over to aid. She is a little surprised to see the attendant, head down, tenderly stroke the patient's hair and gently adjust her gown. He leans down and kisses her forehead. Colleen nicely did all of those things last night. However, she is off-put seeing this man do them now.

"Look at me, please," she curtly commands the caregiver.

Danny Rand looks up with an apology in his expression. Colleen Wing looks back with astonished joy. She takes his hand so that she might touch him as well as see him returned. Her senses tell her that it is Danny. Her intuition tells her also that it is he. Slits barely open, Misty Knight grins on the bed. After much preamble, Strange and Rand's deliberation resolves quickly and quietly in a happy reunion.

Clearing his throat, Dr. Strange addresses practical matters. He speaks, "Colleen, can you believe that lady Phantom Rider? It would seem that she gave you a load of misinformation about Danny's death."

Then, the founding Defender spins a tale to Fearless Defender Wing. Danny stays silent during the exposition. By the story's end, the detective understands that the female Phantom Rider is a liar and a teller of tall tales. Jaime Slade is very unstable. In fact, she has twice fought heroine Mockingbird, and she has associated with crook Crossfire. Jaime should have never told Colleen that her dear Danny was deceased. In fact, Spymaster and his three cronies merely captured Danny, but they did not kill him. Then, the male Phantom Rider—the honorable and good one—freed Iron Fist. Dr. Strange recovered the poor abductee after last night's plane crash, which is in the news, and the sorcerer spirited Mr. Rand away to parlay upon a Mr. Beliar. In fact, the gathered crimefighters should discuss Beliar now. Beliar is the villains' employer, and he is the real threat here.

At the obfuscation's end, Colleen Wing says politely, "Thank you for informing me, Stephen."

Colleen's eyes glance quickly at Danny. They say that her nose can smell some b.s. when her ears hear it. She is a good detective. She will interview her old friend and trusted ally later.

"I should inform and educate you about Beliar, Ms. Wing," states Stephen.

"Yes, please do," the sleuth suspects that she will now receive useful information.

"His history begins in the Dark Ages [see _Marvel Preview_ #22]," the raconteur recounts, "The demon Asmodier, actually Asmodeus, spawned a son called Beliar. Beliar pretended to be a British knight, and he infiltrated Camelot's Knights of the Round Table. He planned to assassinate King Arthur, for Asmodier considered Arthur too great of a force for good in the world. Arthur's mentor Merlin was the Earth's Sorcerer Supreme at that time, and he discerned Beliar's genuine nefarious nature early on. Ultimately, Beliar fled back to Hell with a kidnapped Guinevere. Naturally, Arthur and Merlin pursued him and defeated both the agent of darkness and his diabolical father."

"However, they could not have possibly killed them. Malevolent spirits do not die easily. Just look at New Avengers foes the Hood and D'Sparye," Colleen contributes. Dr. Strange and Iron Fist were New Avengers.

"Correct, Colleen," the professor praises, "However, the sixth-century Beliar has not returned. Rather, a modern-day Master Pandemonium has stolen his identity."

"The name 'Master Pandemonium' sounds familiar. If you hang-out with enough heroes, you hear a lot of spooky names," Colleen Wing scratches her head, "However, I have had no direct dealings with the designated dastard. Is he anything like the Master of Worlds?"

"No, he is more of a master villain wannabe," Iron Fist explains that Pandemonium is not entirely like the ancient mad mastermind whom Heroes for Hire handled.

"Still," Strange wags his finger at Rand, "Master Pandemonium has made recently big moves to please someone bigger than himself. To that purpose, he successfully kidnapped you, Iron Fist, so that he might consume your flesh and attain the essence of Shou-Lao the Undying."

Danny purses his lips. He replies, "Well, Master Pandemonium did not succeed in eating me. The Phantom Riders and I were too good for his 'masters of evil' Spymaster, Whirlwind, and two demons pretending to be deadly foes Pavane and Chaka."

Colleen's eyebrows rise, "I killed Pavane very thoroughly a while back. I am truly surprised to hear that the homicide blonde was there yesterday."

"The Pavane pretender is but one obscenity that Pandemonium has lately released upon this plane," Dr. Strange states.

"We need to find Pandemonium and stop his chaos," Knight jumps in. Her voice is barely audible from the bed. However, the stalwart shows her companions her resolve and strength.

"We need to stop whatever pernicious power that Pandemonium would please," Strange adds.

"We need to interrogate Spymaster. He is on this floor ailing and available for intensive interview," Wing clenches her teeth and raises a fist.

Fist admonishes, "We should speak with him. However, let us remain heroes while doing it, Colleen." The woman warrior looks a wee too wrathful.

Colleen Wing takes a controlled breath to cool her sanguine cheeks and chest. "Yes, of course, Danny," she tersely comments.

Dr. Strange looks over the three companions in the early morning light, golden like the Eye of Agamotto's. Like the Eye, the dawn seems to reveal some of these people's true characters. Strange's capable mind considers his allies. They seem like the right means for the present task. Presumably, the Doctor can trust them to their own devices. He must retire to his Sanctum Sanctorum in New York. There, he shall gather more intelligence and run activities. Stephen Strange excuses himself and departs.

Soon after, Iron Fist addresses his two friends. He takes their hands and tells his sisters-in-arms, "I too must depart for now. Stephen and I need to keep our adversaries confused. Quite possibly, they do not know my current status and movements. I could be dead and inactive. I could be alive and actively after them. We must keep Beliar and buddies baffled if possible."

"Well, get out of Billings then," Wing strokes Rand's arm, "I can pry into things and people here."

"All right. Just be careful how you do it," Danny hugs Colleen. He hugs and kisses Misty goodbye. Then, he is out the room's door and on his way.

Twenty minutes later, Colleen has caringly fed Misty. Colleen also departs the room. The Lady Samurai marches around until she spots the police posted in the corridor. Neither the Billings police nor hospital staff will interfere with her. Wing has decided such. She will get rough if she has to.

Wing approaches the officers, "Good morning, gentlemen. I am with Nightwing Investigations. We do information gathering for clients from Tony Stark of SHIELD to Prince Namor of Atlantis. We deal with threats ranging from Rhino of the Sinister Syndicate to Ruby Thursday of the Headmen. I shall be visiting Nathan Lemon, a.k.a. Spymaster, your charge."

"Please do, ma'am. We would be quite alright if you did," the guards step aside.

Colleen is a little surprised. But, Misty is decorated law enforcement, and the boys in blue do tend to stick together. Perhaps, they are quite alright with her entering Spymaster's sick room to acquire answers—and to do whatever. Colleen sashays into the room unmolested. Mephisto watches her intently. She does not notice him—invisible whispering at the officers' shoulders.

In bed, Spymaster is surprised to see Colleen. His eyes go wide. Then, they dart around the room looking for something with which to defend himself. Wing flies at him. Her hands pin his hands to his chest, and her weight crushes his injured body into the mattress.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about the Beliar business," she states, "Otherwise, I swear to God I'll do surgery right in this room!"

From the shadows, Mephisto watches grinning.

Nathan looks at the burning auburn locks and electrified blue eyes above him. This woman means business. But, Spymaster does not fully care if she does. As a professional, Nathan Lemon always means business too, and he will not be intimidated. Especially after he let the Phantom Rider and those demons get to him so much yesterday.

"Do your worst, b***h," Lemon tells Wing.

In a rage, Colleen Wing slaps the patient's face back and forth. Bestially, she claws and scratches his cheeks and scalp bloody. Like a dog, she growls inches above his features.

"Yes, give into your anger," Mephisto titters in the shadows.

Spymaster slugs Wing in the side. Incensed, the attacker slams a knee into his injured abdomen. Lemon moans vociferously. Wing stuffs a nearby towel into his mouth so that his screams might not be heard. She swears to herself that she will have vengeance for Misty and for herself. She rips free his IV needle and rams it into near his groin. The defiant deviant spits in her face. The possessed paladin clamps his throat as a wolf would.

Then, a great puff of sulfurous smoke explodes into Wing's agape mouth and open nostrils. She chokes instead, and she bats her eyes in the stinging miasma. To her surprise, her hands and legs no longer feel her prey pinned beneath her. Through the haze, her vision confirms that Spymaster is disappeared!

"What the hell?!" Wing wonders.

Someone chortles. "I'm back!" someone announces to the left.

Colleen looks. Her jaw drops. Scarecrow drops a haymaker so hard that it bounces her backward off of the wall. Wing drops unconscious to the floor.

Mephisto chortles some more. Even a Hell Lord must have some mischief sometimes. Otherwise, the constant sloth would overwhelm his insane mind. So it is that Mephisto has some fun with Nathan Lemon and Colleen Wing. For the hell of it, the demon has sent Spymaster back to New York in a classic flourish of brimstone.

For the hell of it, Mephisto levitates the girl and lays her supine on the white sheets speckled in the crimson of her recent sin. He beholds her flesh, and he moves toward her. His fingers pet her neck, and he feels her pulse pounding. His hand journeys to her chest, and he feels her heart beating within. Fiendishly, his fingers phase through earthly materials—cloth, meat, bone. And incredibly, Mephisto's hand holds Colleen's beating heart itself. It is warm, animate, and alive. Mephisto could crush it in an instant and kill mortal Colleen. But, he withdraws his creepy claw, his phantom phalanges, instead. He cannot claim Colleen. The violent warrior has done some dark things—including this morning's rampage. However, the hero has never actually sinned with her heart. And, Mephisto can wait for that terrible transgression. It might happen soon enough.

Well, the eternal evil one has business in New York. He will depart anon and join Dr. Strange and Iron Fist in Fun City shortly. But first, Mephisto would walk some rounds at the Billings hospital. There are seemingly always naughty dying souls to claim and vulnerable desperate people to tempt. The devil needs to have some fun. And, who is going to oppose and stop him? Heroes?

Yes, heroes.


	9. Chap 9: Tales of a 13th Grade

**Chapter 9: Tales of a 13** **th** **Grade Nothing**

Beliar finishes his coffee, so the master of pandemonium litters. He sails the paper cup of sugary mud across the sidewalk and into the grass. He checks his purloined pocket watch. The time is 7 p.m. in Manhattan on the Empire State University campus.

From the sidewalk, pedestrian Roger Hochberg gives Beliar a disapproving look. Rog adjusts his glasses, "Say pal, let's keep ESU looking good. Okay? Our campus champ Squirrel Girl would not approve of such pollution."

"I thought that you guys had your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," Beliar muses, "Besides, why would Squirrel Girl give a pellet that I littered? She is a New Yorker, no?"

"Well, y-y-you are poisoning her precious furry friends—and, and, the grass," the awkward chemistry instructor stammers. Perspiration suddenly permeates his sweater vest.

"The only poisoner here is local café The Coffee Bean. I cannot believe that they legally serve such crap. You should have some of the java that I have had in Los Angeles, Cannes, or even Java itself, where I did a movie once," the demoniac preaches. Dissembler Beliar used to be an actor.

Nebbish Hochberg runs shaky fingers through sweaty hair. He does not like being yelled at. He does not like conflict and excitement. Anxiously, he remembers his close calls with the likes of Red Ghost, Hobgoblin, and Professor Power over the years. Sometimes, they fought Spider-Man in the vicinity while Roger hid. Cringing, he remembers when monster Corona came crashing directly through his classroom wall and took him hostage (see _Spider-Man Unlimited_ #5). Roger takes a really deep breath to steady his nerves.

Gutty Hochberg picks-up the crumpled cup, "I-I-I'm just gonna throw this away for y-y-you."

"Leave it. The world is a little worse place if you do," Master Pandemonium commands.

The semi-spineless scholar shuffles toward a trash receptacle. "It's okay. It's okay. I have it," he says without making eye contact.

Beliar's eyes go a wee red, "What the f**k is your problem, Roger? I said to leave it!"

Hochberg gasps and hesitates. How does this man know his name? The fine-featured blond looks like a well-dressed regent or something, but the academic does not recognize this man. The mouse scurries to the trash can.

The beast badgers, "Is a litterbug evil incarnate, f**ker? Does Sir Pellias the Gentle oppose me?" In lore, Sir Beliar killed Sir Pellias (see _Marvel Preview_ #22).

The scared Samaritan stays stoically silent. Pandemonium decides "to hell with it". Gesturing, he ignites the paper lump in the putz's palm. Roger yelps at the blisters gained and skin lost. He drops the fiery trash into the empty can. Hochberg flees fast from the fearsome freak.

Beliar watches the good-two-shoes run away. With a devilish grin, he says, "I showed him."

"Beliar just showed me his locale," Dr. Strange snaps his head erect.

The Sorcerer Supreme has been meditating in his Sanctum Sanctorum west of Empire State University. From Greenwich Village, the magus monitors threats across the universe, and Pandemonium is certainly one of them. Recently, some supreme threat has been concealing the old troublemaker's locale and activities. But, that fire cantrip just gave Pandemonium away.

"Wong!" Strange calls to his aide, "Please contact Mr. Danny Rand immediately. I have detected someone downtown of great interest to him."

Back east, a debonair demoniac considers carving his initials MP, "Martin Preston" or "Master Pandemonium", into the bench upon which he sits idly. The vandalism might peeve some ESU bubblegum hero such as Squirrel Girl, Rocket Racer, or Ricochet. However, ol' MP does not want to miss the murder possibly about to occur on campus. The hypothetical homicide is what the evildoer came for this evening. Master Pandemonium looks up to an open office window alit in the dusk. Beliar need not wish to be a fly on the wall in that office, for he has already dispatched his flying familiar Azmodeus in the form of musca domestica. Through the familiar's senses, the warlock sees and hears all within the room, three stories above.

Into the room, a chilling breeze travels through the window. It passes over Prof. Aaron English's cold cheek as he looks down the barrel of a forty-four. It captures the astringent scent of an angry pupil holding a revolver in his teacher's face. It wafts into the nostrils of the 6'11" palooka father hovering in the background. The helicopter parent lazily leans his four-hundred-pound form against the closed bureau door, thus assuring that the pedagogue gets no outside support.

The professor states plainly, "You are a punk. And, I am not changing your grade."

"I am not a punk. I'm an outlaw!" the punk shakes the firearm in English's fuzzy face, "Now, give me the A!"

Aaron English strokes his red beard nonchalantly, "Well, you are named 'Lance Temple'. And, a Lance Temple was the Outlaw Kid in the nineteenth century. Did you know that, little boy?" Dollar Bill enriches the entitled outlaw kid.

"Yeah! I know that!" the spoiled brat screams.

The professor leans back and sighs, "Oh, I forgot that you twenty-first-century kids know everything." What a cut.

Lance snarls. He cocks his gun and pets the trigger. The "desperado" desperately wants his scare tactics to work. He notices his stupid professor's heavy breathing and slight pallor, and the boy has hope that his browbeating will best the hardass teacher yet. The millennial sees himself and his gun reflected in Dollar Bill's dark shades, and he sees the greatest person in his life, as Narcissus did at the pool.

Drawing a ragged breath, the choleric student resolves to kindly educate the impudent instructor. Lance calms himself momentarily. Lance tensely explains, "I know about my name because my dad gave me that name."

The professor points a finger at Dad. He queries, "Do you mean this f**k-up over here who apparently didn't raise you right?"

Buck Cashman crushes a ceramic knickknack like a b-movie gangster. The tough guy squares his shoulders and stomps forward. Growling, the goon punches his knuckles into the steel desk top.

"I have seen the Hulk and the Son of Satan up-close. I am the Dollar Bill who used to hang-out with the Defenders. You do not impress me, Mr. Cashman," famed journalist Aaron English establishes. Inside, Dollar Bill feels a pfennig worried.

"And, I used to beat-up Daredevil a lot, Mr. Bill, so don't try bullying me," Bullet replies. Inside, he is impressed.

The Defenders are a mysterious group that supposedly had some legit heavy-hitters. Bullet hopes that Dollar Bill cannot summon any of his old buddies. He steps back from the damaged desk and folds his apish arms in front of him. An experienced interrogator, Cashman hopes that his angry expression and upright posture intimidate English.

Professor English peers over his sunglasses at the high head scraping the ceiling, "I have met Daredevil too—Bullet [see _Daredevil_ #234]." Journalists know a lot.

"So, you know my professional name," Buck acknowledges, "Then, you know that I do terrible things for the government and the criminal underworld. Don't make me do terrible things for my boy Lance, my family."

"Your terrible deeds could never match your kid's s**tty performance in my class all semester: consistent absenteeism, constant academic dishonesty, occasional teacher intimidation," English speaks plainly. An educator tells it like it is.

Lance Temple boldly cracks his teacher across the face. He will not tolerate hearing what he does not want to hear. The brat is entitled to his high grade, and that is that. An honest assessment might hurt his feelings and self-image. An honest grade might hinder his "promised" progress toward his degree. Why was Lance obligated to take general requirements, such as ol' Aaron's film appreciation course, anyway? How was a sophisticated mind ever going to make him a better scholar, worker, citizen, family member, or whomever else one day?

Bullet nearly goes off too. But, he waits to go ballistic. Instead, Buck lectures the lecturer, "Listen, Lance has not been Lance Temple all of his life any more than I, a mercenary, am really 'Buck Cashman'. I changed Lance's last name to protect him considering his father's line of work, and I am protecting him now. Change the course grade. Or, learn why I named him after the Outlaw Kid."

Raising his weapon, Lance threatens to put a bullet through Bill. Leaning forward, Bullet threatens to go through Bill as well.

Peering over shades, Dollar Bill defies the dumb duo deviants, "Honestly, no one remembers the Outlaw Kid, and I certainly shan't once you two leave my office. Presently."

Suddenly, a silvery webline shoots to the small fry's firearm and yanks it free. The magnum blasts the wall plaster with a boisterous bang. Prof. English did not even see that occurrence coming.

"Whoops," Spider-Man on the windowsill comments, "I kind of saved the day at the last millisecond there, eh what?"

The webslinger lobs the iron over his shoulder into a trashcan on the quad behind him. Thirty yards away, it clunks in beside some smoldering paper. Spidey assesses the tight room's uptight occupants. Oddly enough, each also smolders like a hellion's coffee cup. Bullet gives Spidey a withering glare. Young Lance's visage burns red with rage. Prof. English fumes over his recent treatment. The Webhead decides to cool someone off. His line hits Bullet in the chest.

"You're a helicopter parent. Can you fly? Let's see," says Spidey.

With a flick, the superhero jerks the big jerk through the air toward the open window. However, Bullet is too big to fit through the open space, so he goes through glass, wood, plaster, and brick before solidly hitting hard ground three stories below. Spider-Man hops down for some expected fisticuffs with a supervillain.

A minute earlier, something had set-off the Wallcrawler's Spider-Sense, and the sense had directed him to the quad to face a large threat. This guy is large, and he is wearing all black. And, his powers—if he has any—are unknown to Spider-Man. So, big daddy here might be the big bad deal detected.

Beliar is no longer on his park bench.

Bullet gets up. He prepares to fight. The felon fumbles his villain mask out of his pocket. It is simply all-black cloth with eyeholes and an open top. Spider-Man stands-by amused.

The amused arachnid Avenger crosses his arms, "You know, buddy, I just fully saw your face a moment ago."

"You're going to find out who I am," Bullet puts up his gripped gloves.

Spidey keeps his arms calmly crossed, "Who's that? Ox's lamer brother the Gnu?"

"They call me Bullet," the enforcer explains, "And, I have messed-up Daredevil on many occasions, so I would watch your mouth, smartass."

Spider-Man uncrosses his arms, "And, Daredevil is a friend of mine, so I would watch what you confess to, dum-dum. Shooting off your mouth is unwise on your part."

Bullet tramps toward his opponent, "Actually, boldness is getting between a committed father and his beloved son."

Professor Parker replies, "Actually, your campus visit this eve is not bravado. It is foolishness. Federal law prohibits parental interference in post-secondary education."

"Like I care," states the disturbed parent, "I break laws—and other things—all of the time." The killer stands five feet from his foe. Bullet cracks his knuckles to emphasize how he breaks things and people.

Unintimidated, Peter Parker rolls the eyes behind his mask, "Helicopter parenting is inappropriate, incompetent, and irritating interference in adult education. Your 'child' will never grow-up to be big and strong like you if you coddle him forever. Sans a work ethic, he becomes a crook such as you. Sans strict ethical guidance, he becomes an antisocial personality such as you. Sans respect for authority, he becomes an enfant terrible waving threats and a gun in his professor's face. Great guardians teach responsibility." Educator Parker states thoughts that he has had for a long time during the present era.

Buck Cashman stands silent momentarily. He speaks, "I don't know what 'sans' means. I never went to college. I'm simply going to slug you and make my point."

Bullet swings and misses supple Spider-Man. He lunges with a jab, and his opponent steps aside. Bullet throws a punch from on-high, and fleet feet dance out of the way. He jabs again, and the dancer ducks. Cashman kicks at his crouching challenger, and Spider-Man rolls backward untouched. Careening forward, Bullet grabs for costume, but Spidey somersaults backward five times. Rushing recklessly, Buck blitzes like a bull, but Spider-Man leap-frogs him. Automatically, the assassin thrusts a deadly elbow behind him, sure that enemy is there. But no. The duelist does not see him anywhere. Spider-Man, nobody knows where he is.

Except, Bullet promptly finds out. Seemingly from nowhere, Spider-Man lands before Bullet. Instantly, Spidey springs a foot off the ground. The crimefighter's fist cracks Cashman across the chin. One wallop wobbles the outmatched opponent.

The superhero shakes a finger, "As you can see, I am faster than a staggering Bullet. Watch my hands."

The Spider-Sluggers' ten-punch combination is an impressive blur into the ogre's abdomen. Nearly upchucking, Bullet falls face-first into the dirt. He lies leveled on the lawn. The Arachnid Avenger drags him away like captured prey. By the collar, the crimefighter carries his collar up a lamppost.

ESU security guard Devin Chapman and Parker pal Roger Hochberg arrive to find Spider-Man finishing stringing Bullet from the lamppost. "Is that the mutant?" Chapman asks Hochberg, "The one who singed your hand?"

"No, I am the non-mutant super hero," Spider-Man calls back.

"No, neither one, up there, is the guy," Hochberg explains, "The fiery foppish fiend was a blond guy about six foot."

"Pyro?" Spider-Man wonders aloud. The Brotherhood mutant fits the description.

"No, not Pyro. A much bigger threat," Dr. Strange steps from night's gathering shadows. He startles civilians Chapman and Hochberg.

Devin grasps his left chest, "Sheesh, you are worse than prowler Red Ghost when he surprised me in the science building several seasons back [see _Fantastic Four_ v.3 #3]."

"No kidding!" Roger interjects, "You have encountered Red Ghost and the Super-Apes too [see _Amazing Spider-Man_ #223]!" There is an amazing coincidence.

"I am much more impressive than Ivan Kragoff the Red Ghost," the Master of the Mystic Arts muses about his occasional enemy (see _Defenders_ #7-8), "The threat that brought me to campus is much more potent as well."

"The threat wouldn't happen to be a crazy kid with a gun, would it?" Spider-Man doubts that Dr. Strange responded to such a banal occurrence, "I was just about to check on your old buddy Dollar Bill who teaches here now. A pesky pupil had a pistol pointed at the professor a moment prior to present."

"I already have aided the old acquaintance," the sorcerer surprises with his answer.

A moment before, Aaron English and Lance Temple stare down each other in tense silence. Dollar Bill has removed his dark glasses. Young Temple has recovered from seeing his idiot idol abruptly extricated out the window. The pedagogue stands on his feet and removes his purple tweed jacket. He rolls his sleeves. His frame rumbles with anger.

Lance admonishes Aaron, "Hey, you better not do anything to me, teach. I'll sue."

"Don't you mean that your f**king daddy will f**king sue for you?" the learned man retorts.

The Kid is not tolerating this situation that causes him stress. He turns to the door to go.The door opens in his face. Imposing Dr. Strange stands before him.

The brat warns, "I don't know who you are. But, you had better get out of my way. My dad has taught me the martial arts."

"My assistant has taught me self-defense as well," Dr. Strange reports.

Lance attempts shoving the insolent sage. Stephen swiftly seizes the waif's wrist in a painful kung-fu grip and then twists his arm bringing the knave to his knees.

"Who is this fellow?" Strange asks Bill.

"He thinks that he is the Outlaw Kid," Bill struts toward languishing Lance, "However, he is really just an attempted murderer who would kill an educator over a grade."

"Oh my," states Strange.

Dollar Bill removes the leather belt girdling his pants, "It is good to see you, Dr. Strange. Did you come to help me?"

"No, I was looking for some other deviant whom I detected in the area," the wizard replies, "Have you seen a hellspawn named Azmodeus? Or, have you only seen this hellspawn polluting the halls of academia?"

"Just him," livid Bill folds the belt, "I can scourge the Temple if you need address other things."

Before Strange can react, the lecturer lashes the lousy lad, and the whupping goes from there. Again and again and again, the leather cracks and corrects the criminal kid who cries with each crashing contact. Strange stands back slightly nonplussed. On one hand, the American Medical Association frowns on corporal punishment, for a kid of any age. On the other hand, his parents Eugene and Beverly raised him the same way in a more civilized time. And, Strange is no longer a physician; he is a vigilante. He is Dr. Strange, not Dr. Spock. So, the Master of the Mystic Arts leaves Master English to lecture and lash Lance Temple, teaching him lessons on authority, respect, and responsibility.

A minute later, Dr. Strange and Spider-Man converse. Dr. Strange points to suspended Bullet, "I see that you whupped the boy's father while English whupped the boy."

"True enough," Spider-Man grants.

"Good," comes a voice yards away, "I could use some allies in ass-kicking."

Iron Fist speaks more bluntly than usual as he walks toward his old New Avengers acquaintances. Spider-Man and Dr. Strange watch Iron Fist arrive. Off. Chapman, Inst. Hochberg, and they huddle beneath Bullet and the bright streetlight.

"Where is Beliar?" Danny asks Stephen.

"I do not know," admits Strange, "Beliar and Azmodeus were just here. Then, the evil irkers evaded me again."

"Beliar and Azmodeus sound like devilishly-daunting names," Spider-Man notes, "Is there anything that I should know about the fiendish fellows before checking-on Dollar Bill and his thrashed assailant?"

"Well, Azmodeus is no match for the Amazing Spider-Man," comments the Sorcerer Supreme, "However, his boss Beliar might cause you trouble."

"Oh."

The Web-Slinger shoots a line to the semi-wrecked windowsill and flies to it. Azmodeus the Fly buzzes past his ear as the two beings pass. To Peter, the buzzing might be only an insect buzzing the air, or it might be a slight tingle of Spider-Sense. He is not sure. Either way, the hero finds Dollar Bill's fat form atop the hogtied "Outlaw Kid". Bill wants security, and Peter yells for Devin Chapman to come on up. Chapman does.

Cupping hands, Iron Fist yells for Spider-Man to meet the two Defenders at Dr. Strange's abode in Greenwich Village. Hand on shoulder, Dr. Strange entreats Roger Hochberg to watch Bullet until NYPD arrive. Summoning courage, the neurotic agrees to do his duty. Pete swings past Rog and wishes him good luck. Spider-Man catches Iron Fist and Dr. Strange, and the three discuss Beliar's threat. They should include Nightwing Investigations in their search for the bad guy, now that Misty feels a bit better.

Feeling nervous but brave, Roger Hochberg waits for the busy NYPD to arrive. He eyes Bullet hanging overhead, and Bullet stares back at him. Hochberg exhales and looks away. Instantly, Beliar appears in his puss—looking deeply into his pupils. As a basilisk freezes prey, so Beliar mesmerizes poor Hochberg. Drooling, Roger stands catatonic.

Inspired by earlier repartee with Rog, Master Pandemonium dispatches demonic squirrels to skitter up the lamppost to rescue big Buck Cashman. Were ESU's Squirrel Girl a witch, she would use the Rakasha in the same manner. Ravenously, the unearthly vermin gnaw the steel suspending Bullet. Post haste, his ass hits hard sidewalk. With unexpected strength, the thin fop pulls four-hundred pounds erect.

"You shall work for me," the diablo declares.

"Why the f**k should I?" inquires the underworld agent.

"I offer you mammon and the chance for revenge on tonight's enemies," offers Beliar.

"S**t! I might like those things!" Bullet scratches his chin, "Mammon is money, right?"


	10. Chap 10: Snake Style

**Chapter 10: Snake Style**

The conference room is crowded, but educator Aaron English feels alone. In the bowels of Empire State, university administrators gather to probe messy matters. There is an issue that they wish to examine and then discharge.

Chancellor Gorman sits at the head of the table. The bulbous, balding man puts down his chocolate donut and black coffee. His churning browned choppers chew over the matter at hand. The chubby chair chronicles recent events aloud. Last week, cheater Lance Temple and his father challenged Prof. English's course assessment. Errant Aaron, you cheekily chaffed them verbally and physically. What say you to these charges, English?

Prof. English chortles. He would like to mention that cherub Temple brought a gun to English's chambers. But, an experienced educator knows not to chum the waters after "chums" have cherrypicked the truth.

To Gorman's right, Foundation President Dwyer sits. Distressed, Dwyer chastises Dollar Bill. Channeling rage, the mustachioed, middle-aged man characterizes schools as businesses. Cherry-faced, he chants that the customer is always right and that "we must sometimes do bad things so that students pay good money to come here". He childishly chucks his herbal chai off the wall.

To Gorman's left, Dean of Students Beatty sits. Beatty chides English that students' parents pay Bill's checks. The character champions a crime-free campus that reports no chicanery, from academic dishonesty to attempted murder. Per chance, colleges chuck charges into student disciplinary committees, charitable chanceries, but no one chances to change a university's public image. Sales could be affected. Bill, be the chump who chooses not to see.

Richard Gorman cheers "I have to support my staff", cherishing the cheesy churls supporting him.

Beside English, Dean of Humanities Enrico Montesi churns chippily and charks. The dean chafes, ""F**k you three! Where's Foolkiller when you need him?!" Former student Greg Salinger famously tried to off an administrator a while back.

Beside Montesi, Dean of Sciences Morris Sloan chooses the high road. He charms the three intransigent chaps. He chuckles that excessive charity cheapens academic assessment. Children must chase challenges and manage chores if they are to make much of themselves.

Opposite English and the deans, Lance Temple chuckles at the chumps challenging his license. He chucks a churro at them. To the left, the three chimps see, hear, and speak no evil.

On the right, Lance's mother Gloria chimes in. With chilling look, she chastises her chowderhead son. With chagrin, she begs pardon for his gauche chutzpah. She champions better achievement from him.

Abruptly, Gorman chivvies her into silence. In chorus, chancellor and cronies christen the Outlaw Kid the victim here. From the table's butt, Head of Security Davis cheeps in. A chicken, he assures chief administrators that Devin Chapman (officer responding to the incident) and he will keep cats in bags and will close their eyes to collegiate complications. Beside Davis, Off. Chapman chokes back outrage.

Similarly, Prof. English has heard enough chit-chat. Chin up, he changes his mind about ESU employment. Bidding them "ciao", the chevalier leaves the charlatans charading as educators. Dollar Bill resigns and walks.

A jaunt down the street, evil operators meet in an underground bunker. Beneath the Bowery, Mr. Beliar and Bullet behold their new abettors and buddies.

Nightshade caresses an old M-2 machine gun on a rusted tripod abandoned long ago. Her flirtatious finger cleans cobwebs from the feed. The genius weaponsmith smiles, sure that she can revive the gun. Secretly, "Nightshade" is Beliar's Riglevio, but Bullet does not know that.

Vulture swigs cognac from a crystal decanter left long ago. The brandy is like turpentine, and it burns his tongue, throat, and tummy. But, a Vulture can consume anything, especially when abominable within. Secretly, "Vulture" is Beliar's Azmodeus, but Bullet does not know that.

Mr. Beliar is Master Pandemonium, but Bullet does not know that truth either. However, Nightshade, Vulture, and their two remaining companions certainly do.

King Cobra peruses a volume of forgotten lore yellowing on an aging oak bookshelf. The text is an original Poe purloined from the Morgan Library. A king crook, Cobra admires the stolen artifact. Clandestinely, "Cobra" is Mephisto, but Beliar and company do not know that.

The Serpent smirks. He sees the fools and sinners present advancing his machinations, and a certain hellfire warms his frigid heart. Cold-blooded "Cobra" will claim his companions soon and carry his chattel to their just fate. However, for now, "Cobra" simply loves the venom and chaos created thus far and to come. Mephisto smirks like a s**t-eater.

Eel examines his company from a sofa. The chesterfield has horsehair upholstery, and one suspects that Eel's oily suit might ruin it through the antimacassar. Beside the sofa, an antique floor lamp stands. Its light shimmers over Eel's smooth sheen, and it reflects his image eerily in its brass body. Perhaps, Beliar and company should examine Eel while he looks acutely at them. Clandestinely, "Eel" is Spymaster, but Beliar and company do not know that. Well, amused Mephisto knows, for the Devil is always wily. But, on a whim, the deceiver says nothing. Oblivious, Spymaster knows nothing.

Whether one is Bullet, Beliar, or Spymaster, no one knows who and what about whom in this den of dark operators.

"Welcome to the Fox's den," vix Beliar calls his kits to order, "You stand in the long-abandoned hideout of Reynard Slinker, master art thief and minor gang leader. Mssr. Slinker was also known as the Fox."

"I remember him," Cobra recalls, "He troubled Spider-Man and Human Torch when both were very young. _The Daily Chronicle_ had the story. I remember my strange tales [see _Strange Tales Annual_ #2]."

"Goddam, you're old," Nightshade comments upon the villain who troubled Thor when Thor was young, or at least new (see _Journey into Mystery_ #98).

Cobra kibitzes, "You have no idea."

Eel studies Cobra. Spymaster is sure that the original King Cobra retired and that the current one is the original's nephew. Yet, the present party just indicated that he is old Klaus Voorhees, not young Piet Voorhees. But, Eel cannot tell anything definite. This ophidian is wearing a mask.

Intelligence agent Bullet scrutinizes Cobra too. He has the same question as his undercover colleague on the couch. However, Bullet studies Eel as well. Eel is supposed to be dead after fellow animal Toad killed him (see _Wolverine_ #167). But, Bullet also knows that Eel has worked with Nightshade and Cobra. And, neither seems to find Eel fishy. Furthermore, Eel and Iron Fist are old enemies, so the slick criminal might just be here to help in a hero's homicide.

Beliar definitely wants a piece of Iron Fist. "I want the death of Iron Fist!" Beliar blurts.

Eel rolls his eyes. Spymaster has heard enough of this noise. But, Nathan Lemon keeps calmly listening, for he has intrepidly infiltrated this den's dangerous denizens for a purpose.

"Preach on, Beliar! What are we going to do?" Nightshade encourages her new employer pursuing her old enemy Iron Fist. Riglevio supports her tried-and-true boss.

"We're going to kill Iron Fist!" pep leader Pandemonium raucously repeats.

"I have heard that before," Eel remarks.

"But first, we're going to kill all of his friends and everyone he loves!" raves Beliar.

"Yeah! The Daughters of the Dragon must die!" shouts Nightshade.

"They'll die horribly! And, we're going to slaughter Spider-Man too for supporting Iron Fist!" announces Beliar.

"I'll drink to that plan," Vulture toasts, "Ever do I have a bone to pick with the Slinger of Webs." Azmodeus has often odd syntax.

"And, we're going to kill Iron Fist ally Dr. Strange!" mewls Master Pandemonium.

"No s**t. Good luck to us with that aim," Cobra comments.

"And, we might as well kill my son's teacher too!" Bullet cuts in.

"Hell no! The pursuit of knowledge never hurt anybody," cringing Cobra crows back.

The Serpent flicks his tongue. Mephisto criticizes, "Besides, Buck, you might consider your interference good parenting. But, I assure you. The path to Hell is paved with good intentions."

"What do you even know about it?" Bullet fires back. And, how does Cobra know his real name?

Cobra's eyes burn coldly "Oh, I do my homework about the evil that men do."

"Me too," states Nightshade, "After the kill, consume Iron Fist's carcass like we had planned to?"

Occasional lycanthrope Nightshade canvasses Beliar. Around her, creatures Vulture and Cobra display diabolical appetites too. They lick their lips. Their wide eyes look upon Beliar.

Master Pandemonium tells his companions, "Cannibalism is a fine crime, and I might yet commit it. However, we need Iron Fist dead first. Let us not bite off more than we can chew. Mass murder—of five good people—is a fine start to a fine goal."

"What is the plan exactly?" Eel asks for the plan's precise logistics.

Spymaster wants the nitty gritty and the details. The Espionage Elite has boldly returned to Mr. Beliar whom he fears, for good reason. Anxiously, Spymaster considers the past pain that Beliar has inflicted upon him. Nervously, Nathan considers Beliar's sinister supernatural abilities that surpass the mere mortal capabilities of an "elite" commando. Gulping, the trooper conquers his fear for a necessary good: saving his own neck.

Upon his seemingly miraculous return, Spymaster contacted Whirlwind, and Beliar's expendables discussed their recent boss. They decided that they must eliminate the fiendish fop instead of constantly watching their backs. Thus, the Espionage Elite worked contacts and did research. The criminal underground reported that Beliar sought new recruits to assassinate Iron Fist after Spymaster's failed attempt. Hence, Spymaster next worked his contacts and did his research for anything that might conceal him in Beliar's presence. In previous encounters, the sorcerer saw through every deception and discerned every action ahead of time. Magic must have allowed the demoniac to do so. Therefore, Nathan Lemon prayed that he might find some lucky charm to mask him from the mage. Fortunately, Spymaster found a bogeywoman named Calypso haunting Hell's Kitchen. The voodoo priestess put a protection on him in exchange for gold. The tattoo seems to be working. Beliar shares specific plans seemingly without suspecting that Spymaster sits there spellbound.

In the Brooklyn Bridge's umbra, Nightwing Investigations interview Devin Chapman and Roger Hochberg. The security guard contacted the two lady detectives and invited them to Titanic Memorial Park, southeast of ESU. Dutiful Devin wants to make sure that reticent Roger testifies thoroughly and in-person about his encounter with Beliar and Bullet. Chapman says that he wants to make sure "some justice occurs today", whatever that means. The other day, Chapman deposed to the Daughters at Spider-Man's behest. Misty Knight mentions that, thanks to Iron Fist, Spider-Man and the Daughters of the Dragon have teamed-up. With Dr. Strange coordinating, they scour the city for maleficent Beliar. Chapman mentions that Dollar Bill, who resigned today, has gone to see Stephen Strange encountered on campus last week. Wing says that Dollar Bill is indeed currently at Dr. Strange's abode. Knight asks if the mystic just communicated through the astral plane. Wing says that "No, Wong simply sent a text."

At the Sanctum Sanctorum, Dr. Strange and Prof. English sit in the study discussing several subjects. One is the old days with the classic Defenders. Another is today's events. Scholar English resigned from ESU.

"I am sorry to hear that those charlatans were not more supportive," states Strange sympathetically.

"Yeah, it's f****d-up s**t," Dollar Bill states it like a New Yorker, "However, my sad situation changed in a Manhattan minute."

"Oh? How is that?" solicits Stephen.

Aaron answers, "A Dr. Hamilton Slade called me this noon. Somehow, he knew about this morning's snafued meeting with the 'Outlaw Kid'. He also knew about the Bullet in my office last week and some guy named Beliar who witnessed everything. Dr. Slade's great cognizance is all odd, for Slade resides in Nevada."

The sorcerer simpers, "Well, we do live in the internet age and an age of marvels."

"Boy! Do we both know that!" Dollar Bill guffaws. The Defenders groupie knows about the universe's wonders to some extent. The Defenders' leader and founder knows them folds further.

"What did good old Hamilton have to say?" Dr. Strange subtly indicates that he knows Dr. Slade. And, he rather reveals what he thinks of him.

Dollar Bill answers, "The good man offered me a paying position in the Silver State. The doctor needs a documentarian at an archeological dig in the desert."

"That sounds like a hot assignment," Strange quips, "You deserve some kismet after today's Empire State events."

"Thank you. I am ready to leave New York for a while," says the native Long Islander, "By the way, Hamilton mentioned that he might ride into town to see you sometime. He says that he might aid you with 'this Beliar business' if such action becomes necessary."

Stephen Strange fake smiles, "I think that Manhattan parties can handle this Beliar fellow. There is no need for Slade to be a ranger." Wong escorts Dollar Bill to the door and wishes him good luck.

Refocusing, Dr. Strange contacts one of his Manhattan allies. Spider-Man sees Strange's astral form manifest before him as the Web-Slinger swings through Midtown's canyons. The supreme updates his "subordinate" and sends him to update Iron Fist active a few blocks away.

Heading into the subway, Iron Fist scans the citizens entering and departing Penn Station. Bored, the bold hero wishes that his intended assassins would make their move. Sans warning, Spider-Man dexterously drops in front of Iron Fist. However, the Kung-Fu Killer does not startle. An elite warrior is ever situationally aware, so he simply greets the amazing friend spotted centiseconds before his surprise. The Webhead shares what threads of information that he knows. While shooting the breeze, Spidey looks around for whoever might be mildly setting-off his Spidey-Sense. However, he spots no overt threats amongst New York's outre crowd. Concealed, Spymaster watches Spider-Man leave.

The incognito Spymaster tails costumed Iron Fist into a downtown train. As the car enters darkness, a fellow passenger feigns surprise upon spotting Iron Fist present.

"Damn! Look who it is. It's Iron Fist," a middle-aged man strides toward Iron Fist. He scrutinizes the person approaching.

"Hello, sir, my name is Charlie Pike," Pike juts a hand in greeting, "My grandkids love you." The Living Weapon keeps his deadly hand to himself. Cheery Charlie is not discouraged.

"It's alright, Iron Fist. I'm a good guy like you. I work at City Hall," Charlie holds-up the i.d. badge on his suit. The badge says that Charles P. works in the tax office downtown. Spymaster made sure that the i.d. is real, for he took it off the real Chuck an hour ago. The real CPA should have never made the _Bugle_ and the internet for assisting Code: Blue a piece ago (see _Thunderstrike_ #16).

Spymaster seats himself beside Iron Fist. Pike produces a pen and pad from his jacket, and Rand watches Pike's hand every second of the way. "May my grandkids have an autograph? They love you," Spymaster winks.

Iron Fist neither loves nor hates the current waiting game. He wonders when Pike will plunge toward his throat with the pen. Surely, this kind man is a clandestine killer. Iron Fist wonders if he should play along with this guy. The hero looks-over Pike from his fine leather shoes to his designer tie to his waxed mustache. He looks-over his get-up intently.

Then, Iron Fist looks sorry Charlie in the eye, "What do you want, Spymaster?"

From beneath paint and prosthetics, Spymaster displays genuine surprise. Iron Fist speaks again, "I saw through your dissimulation. An adept warrior can read his enemy's movements."

"Don't neglect to read this too," Spymaster shoves the pad toward Danny. The top sheet already has writing upon it, and it even already has an autograph.

The writing reads, "Hello, Iron Fist. It's Spymaster. There is a document under this tablet. You should read it. Best regards, boy, (signed) Daniel T. Rand. The "Daniel T. Rand" is a perfect forgery of Danny's signature.

Danny's brows rise. Apparently, Spymaster intended for the warrior to see through his subterfuge. "You're passing me a note?" the puzzled superhero asks.

"Yeah, I am not going to discuss Beliar's plans in detail on a public train," the crafty criminal replies.

Iron Fist slides the page from beneath the pad. He places the paper inside his tunic and hopes that it is not written in poison pen permeable through skin. Iron Fist exhales. He addresses Spymaster, "You tried to kill me. Much worse than that, you almost killed Misty Knight. Why shouldn't I kick your despicable can around this subway car right now."

"Because you wouldn't want Whirlwind to destroy the same car and derail the entire train," Spymaster shares, "On my signal, Whirlwind would enter this transport's tunnel, and a twister would cause a train crash. Any conscientious do-gooder would not want that awful and ugly occurrence."

If he lives to old age, the crimefighter will never quite understand how some men can be so evil. The bad guys ever amaze him. Iron Fist replies, "I hurt Davey Cannon quite badly in Montana. I am surprised that Whirlwind is not sitting in this same car concealed as an old lady or something."

"We talked about that tactic. In fact, there is an old lady disguise at my current Bowery hideout [see _Strange Tales Annual_ #2]," Spymaster confesses, "However, we settled on present tactics because I have studied Tony Stark."

"Oh? How did Tony Stark give you any ideas?" Iron Fist enquires about Iron Man.

Spymaster lets superhero know how much spy knows, "You work with Spider-Man who has worked with Tony Stark whose computers I have hacked. Stark's files speculate that Spider-Man has a danger sense operative in close proximity. Therefore, I was not going to have both Whirlwind and myself in close proximity when contacting you."

Internally, the Hero for Hire admits to himself that he does not always confront cretins in this business. Calmly, Iron Fist gazes out the glass opposite his seat. The train nears a stop. Danny Rand supposes that the wanted terrorist beside him wants to skedaddle. The hero is going to let the villain go—for now.

"I am going to let you go for now," Iron Fist re-establishes eye contact, "But, I need to know. Why do you betray Beliar?"

Spymaster explicates, "Well, by the grace of God, or somebody else, Whirlwind and I miraculously returned to New York fully healthy after our Montana mauling. We had jobs to do if we wanted. If we wanted, we had scores to settle with the city's costumed defenders and avengers. However, Dave and I decided that the 'heroes' were not the parties who most deserved our malicious attention. Beliar needs to be beaten and broken badly. We hope that heroes will help us to mitigate our mutual monster and to f**k-up a fiend. Afterward, catch us criminals if you can."

Danny raps his left tunic, but he is not showing fraternity. "Beliar's next moves are described in the paper?" he asks.

Charlie Pike rises to leave, "Yeah."

"You'll be seeing me," Iron Fist promises.

Spymaster leaves. The line leads southward to Soho where Danny meets Misty and Colleen for dinner. The women had a meeting near Brooklyn Bridge this late afternoon. Danny just concluded a surprise meeting on the subway. He has a document for them all to examine. It details a kidnapping plot that Beliar's gathered bad parties soon execute.


	11. Chap 11: Assorted Solid Plans

**Chapter 11: Assorted Solid Plans**

Martina Tereshkova navigates a limousine down narrow 62nd Street in the hot June night. Tereshkova is head of security for Rand-Meachum, and she transports CEO Joy Meachum safely home after a charitable event. Joy has the back windows down, and the night air teases her long, blonde locks. Before a certain skyscraper, Martina halts the limo, and Joy steps from the vehicle. Her high heels hit the sidewalk, and she glances back at her driver. Martina and Ms. Meachum do not speak, but they rather simply nod "good night" to each other.

Across the way, Nightshade's eyes narrow. Lupine at heart, the sight of prey excites her. She licks lips in anticipation. Beliar sits beside her.

Joy strides toward the secure doorway to her building. The doorman greets her. She smiles at the security man, glad to see him. Her security looks back at her and looks her over—even ogles her—from toned legs to tight outfit. But curiously, she does not completely mind the attention. The well-dressed woman crosses the threshold, and the doorman shuts her in. From the car, Tereshkova studies him. He gives a big wave back. Stolidly, she prepares to depart.

Before leaving, Martina looks one last time at a cube van parked across from the apartment building. The vehicle is one typically rented for moving residents in and out of a building, but Martina notices no parties moving at this late hour. She does notice the truck's unlatched back slightly open though. Hopefully, the back is empty. A nice Manhattan neighborhood, even the Upper East Side has thieves, bums, and scoundrels.

A scoundrel peers at the black limousine from the back's darkness. The streetlight glints upon the cold eyes. Driver Tereshkova does not even notice them while they notice her. The cold eyes widen slightly in excitement when the driver pivots the sedan into 62nd Street and smoothly accelerates east toward Park Avenue. Speedily, Cobra slithers from truck aft to asphalt. Instantly, the snake races forward just below the doorman's line of sight. Effortlessly, he slips through the side window's narrow opening. In the rearview, Martina spots him, gasps, and raises the barrier between her and deadly passenger. Pouncing, Cobra slithers through the ascending protection. The trespasser fires his wrist weapon before the security guard even grabs her sidearm. Cobra's envenomed dart pierces Martina's neck.

Respiratory failure begins immediately. Tereshkova sucks for air, and her hands seize the steering wheel. Cobra punches her in her agape mouth. The town car rolls toward thick night traffic in this City that Never Sleeps, and Cobra averts for everyone an accident. Artfully, the goon grabs the wheel, and his limber leg leads foot to brake. The car halts in time. Immediately, Cobra undoes undone Martina's seatbelt, and the terrible thug tosses the dying woman aside emphatically. In the past, solider Tereshkova has survived assailants Skeleton Ki (see _Marvel Comics Presents_ #125) and Micah Synn (see "Kicking Asses, Part One," _The Death of Iron Fist_ ), but she will not survive this sociopath and savage.

"Well, everything seems okay," Beliar watches in the van's side mirror. The limo has stopped at the red light before Park Avenue.

Also in the cab, Nightshade responds, "Tereshkova's murder is a good thing. His employee's death should get under boss Danny Rand's skin."

"Joy Meachum's kidnapping and torture should do so even more so," the other evil mastermind replies.

"I have got the chains and camera in the back," Nightshade indicates the van's cube, "We need only for Eel and Bullet to bring the bitch out to us."

Beliar nods. He likes this sick, nefarious plot. Behind him, Eel also follows the plan. He watches Cobra turn south onto Park Avenue, and he knows that the green light signals "go" for him as well. Like Cobra, Eel glides out the cube's ajar gate. With a running start, he actually slickly slides his slippery suit over 62nd Street in one fell swoop. Hiding behind a parked auto, Eel peeks over the trunk at the doorman standing sentry.

The doorman likewise looks right back at Eel, but the man might or might not notice the darkly-adorned villain. Above Eel, someone certainly does spot him. Spider-Man looks down upon the second Serpent Squad member that he has observed this evening. The Spectacular one would love to shine the Spider-Signal on either Cobra or Eel and then get pounding. However, he knows that that is not the New Avengers' plan, for Dr. Strange wants to pull pests into a particular web. From the shadows, the Wallcrawler watches thirteen stories above the earth and 170 feet into the sky. Above Spidey, the Vulture does reconnaissance too. The lofty lout acts as look-out while collaborators move on Ms. Meachum.

Spider-Man muses, "Vulture is not very eagle-eyed. 'Twould seem. He apparently doesn't see me."

Dr. Strange's astral form appears above Spider-Man. The Master of the Mystic Arts demands, "Keep me abreast of events so that I can relay information to our allies."

Spider-Man updates his overseer, "Alright. Cobra took the offered bait. Per Spymaster's shared intel, Cobra went for the limo driver. Eel has now crossed the street and is about to ambush the doorman. Nightshade should take her position soon."

Right on time, Nightshade jumps from the van's passenger side. She hurries along the truck's side and disappears into the back's darkness. Eel springs into action, and Beliar watches him with anticipation. Eel rushes his target like a moray and shocks him like an electric. Beliar smirks at the jolted attendant's grimace. The gatekeeper drops. His assailant takes his keycard, opens the entrance, and drags the doorman inside.

Beliar breaks into a beaming smile. All is good for the evil man. Eel and Bullet should fetch Joy Meachum directly. Nightshade should be making Meachum scream soon after. Cobra should be back posthaste to provide ground support. Vulture scouts from the air. For a moment, Master Pandemonium feels like king of this canyon in the concrete jungle.

Inside the apartment building, doorman Danny Rand compliments the criminal pulling him along the corridor. "Good job, Spymaster. You can let go of me now," Iron Fist states.

Immediately, Eel releases his grip. Slick Spymaster says, "I would give you a hand up, but my glove is greasy."

"No problem," Iron Fist handstands to his feet and whips away the red trench coat. Beneath, he has his familiar green and yellow costume. Danny dons his mask.

Spymaster compliments the crimefighter, "You sold that flop well."

"Thank you. The Kung Fu Killer has much practice falling without getting injured," quips Iron Fist.

Spymaster continues, "Beliar has not reacted with suspicion yet. You must have fooled the conniver."

"Thank you," Iron Fist says, "I am friends with Bob Diamond, the action actor."

Spymaster continues, "Nightshade and Beliar must have believed that I really shocked you."

"Well, let us shock them," Danny cannot really think of further cute dialogue when getting down to business. He leads Spymaster to a door labeled "stairs".

Iron Fist opens the door. But, he insists that assassin Eel lead the way into the basement. The Young Dragon was not born yesterday, and he keeps in mind that his companion tried to kill him but a month ago. The two temporary teammates do make conversation while entering the dusky, dusty lower hallways, however.

"Bullet plans to meet me in the boiler room," Eel points in the direction. He has, of course, already studied this building's blueprints.

Iron Fist snickers, "I am still amused that he comes here from the nearby Colony Club. That club and their building are women-only, and Bullet is this mammoth, manly man. Nightshade would have been a more logical choice to send in."

Eel explains, "Nighshade, Tilda Johnson, is not a member of the upscale Colony Club. However, Vanessa Fisk is. And, she was willing to help her husband's former henchman. This evening, Mrs. Fisk was to take Bullet to the Colony Club's catacombs that lead to Park Avenue's storm sewers that lead to this place's boiler room."

The laundry room sits to the duo's right. Danny Rand glances through the open doorway. As expected, the laundromat is empty and abandoned at this hour. Rand is relieved. He does not want any tenants threatened by either Eel or Bullet. Iron Fist looks left. To his liking, he finds an open elevator car left stopped in the basement. Misty Knight has executed her part of plans well.

"This is my stop," Iron Fist indicates the car, "I'll part from you now. Good luck."

"Okay," Eel keeps walking.

"Oh but, Eel," Iron Fist gets the enemy's attention, "Don't f**k me. Otherwise, it might be the death of Spymaster tonight."

Spymaster scoffs, "Don't be so uptight Dan the Man. I just want the death of Beliar."

Eel heads toward the boiler room. Iron Fist enters the elevator. Leaping, he opens the lift's ceiling hatch and crawls atop the compartment. In the shady shaft, the hero thinks on the plan's next phase. Sitting on heels, he intently awaits upcoming action.

Away from 62nd Street, Cobra speeds southward in Manhattan's moving traffic. Next to him, Martina makes her final agonized motions, moaning through clenched teeth. Mugging, Cobra watches with delight—before realizing something. Martina's moan is awfully loud for an asphyxiating victim, and her last movements are awfully emphatic for a paralyzed person. The cobra venom has not affected her in the expected way. "What gives?" wonders the reprobate.

The Mindless One gives Cobra a slug in the chops just like he punched it a minute before. Behind Cobra's mask, maddened Mephisto realizes what has happened. Heroes have hubristically hornswoggled the Hell-Lord. This masked Martina was but a decoy meant to fool the deviants abducting Joy Meachum tonight. Dr. Strange and Clea must have morphed their Iron Fist imposter into this thing. Enraged Mephisto stops the car amidst abruptly angered fellow motorists. Their horns bellow. The devil screams.

The Mindless One's one eye burns inches from Mephisto's face. In a blink, Mephisto incinerates the Mindless One utterly, and his fires set the limo's entire interior ablaze. Smoke billows from the sedan, and brimstone swathes over the devil. Mephisto considers transmuting the transport as Zarathos would. Like the Ghost Rider, the demon could burn through traffic like a bat out of hell. But, the wrathful one lacks the patience for traversing Manhattan traffic. So, he merely teleports away. Somewhere, Martina Tereshkova is going to die tonight. The ablaze auto continues forward, and a resounding crash cues evil one's ominous departure.

Ascending, in the elevator, Eel and Bullet make conversation before their grim tasks. Bullet intends to kidnap and brutalize Joy Meachum. Unbeknown to Bullet, Spymaster intends to possibly kill and bury Bullet.

Eel asks kindly, "So, how was your short trip from the Colony Club?"

Bullet accounts, "The Club is a swanky and nice place, and Mrs. Kingpin is a good hostess. The sewer is the sewer. I was glad to bust into this place's basement."

"Bust in?" the listener notes the phrasing, "You were supposed to simply pop a drain grate."

Bullet flexes his upper body a bit, "I got broad shoulders, and the hole was narrow. I had to bust concrete floor with my f***ing hands. See." The big galoot displays his black gloves besmirched with gray dust.

Spymaster hopes that Iron Fist and he are successful in leaving Bullet in the dirt. The 6'11' beast could be a problem. Spymaster glances above the four-hundred-pound gorilla in the compartment. Overhead, Iron Fist waits in ambush, unbeknown to Bullet. The elevator is near its destination.

Distraction would benefit the Benedict Arnold betraying both Bullet and Beliar. The Brutus brings-up, "This address actually has a history in the costumed community. Did you know? The Defenders based themselves here briefly."

Bullet snorts. "Eel, I am an intelligence agent. Nothing really gets past me," states Buck Cashman, "Yes, I know that Kyle Richmond, a.k.a. Nighthawk, kept a penthouse here. During that time, he billeted buddy Defenders"

Nathan Lemon is also an adept intelligence agent. Disguised Spymaster smartly informs, "Good, sucker, because there's a Defender directly behind you."

Incredulous, Bullet turns to see. The elevator dings, and Iron Fist's feet ding Bullet in the face. Bullet's hard head dents the steel behind him. Before him, Iron Fist hangs from the ceiling access. Instinctively, the big brawler throws a haymaker. At once, the kung-fu boxer drops from the ceiling to the floor. The duped dents the wall again. Iron Fist sweeps the left leg, and ligaments let loose, intentionally or not. The enemy agent falls forward upon a severed meniscus and popped patella. The lift doors open.

Iron Fist hops into the hallway. Eel hops atop Bullet. He slaps hands on either side of the hustled's head.

Eel torrents electric current unreservedly into Bullet's ears, "Don't scream. Don't communicate with anyone."

Cashman's chattering jaws seize-up, so he is unable to alert any apartment residents around (not that black ops usually call for aid). Cashman's communicator explodes in his ear, so he is unable to contact Cobra, Vulture, Nightshade or Beliar, his outside assistance. Buffeted with electric abuse, spastic Buck passes-out.

Iron Fist re-enters the elevator. Eel exits. Iron Fist hits a button to keep the doors open. Without pause, Eel rushes toward Joy Meachum's apartment. Iron Fist is unconcerned, for Spymaster simply executes the agreed plan. The blackguard has faithfully double-crossed Beliar so far. Casually, the kung-fu fighter jumps through the open ceiling hatch. A cable holds the lift high in this old skyscraper. An iron hand clefts the steel cable in twain. The superhero swings from the remaining length to the hall's carpet. With a cacophonous clatter, the elevator car crashes into the lowest level.

Cool and collected, Iron Fist strides toward Meachum's chambers. He sees that Eel has courteously waited outside her entrance. Seeing Iron Fist, Eel knocks on the door. Misty Knight opens it and invites the villain in.

"Come in, Nathan," Misty Knight lets Nathan Lemon know that she is the same master of information and logistics as he. Information is power, so she knows Spymaster's real name.

Iron Fist prances into the penthouse and playfully pecks Misty upon the cheek. He speaks, "That elevator crash was loud. It might have startled tenants, and they might call the police. But, we have successfully eliminated Bullet and Cobra without their handlers suspecting a thing. Beliar and Nightshade should send in Vulture soon when Eel and Bullet do not emerge with a captive."

In the street. "I suspect that something is up," Nightshade communicates from her in the cube to Beliar in the cab.


	12. Chap 12: Buzzard Bastards

**Chapter 12: Buzzard Bastards**

At 62nd Street and Park, Pandemonium anticipates evil associates' arrival with a comely kidnap victim. Joy Meachum should accompany abductors Eel and Bullet back to the cube van anon. However, things have gone apparently awry.

"I suspect that something is up," Nightshade radios from the carryall's cargo hold.

Biting his lip bitterly, Beliar begrudgingly agrees, "I agree. Bullet's radio just went dead. Eel has not radioed in a while. His silence is fishy. And, Cobra should have parked that sedan, with accompanying stiff, by now. He should be back already."

Nightshade hisses, "Doesn't Cobra know to simply park the limo before the large church a mere block away?"

Beliar affirms, "Yes, he knows to park by the church across from the Latverian Consulate. I even dispatched a demon, disguised as a beggar, to keep the space open."

Beneath his skin, Beliar is Master Pandemonium, and Master Pandemonium houses a horde of hellspawn called the Rakasha. The Rakasha Riglevio impersonates Nightshade at present. Riglevio advises her avatar, "Master, perhaps use your sorceries to scry the besieged skyscraper. Bullet and Eel's fate should become apparent."

The unnatural being concentrates his third eye. But, Pandemonium perceives nothing from inside the building, for he cannot perceive Clea outside of the building. Outside the warlock's window, Clea stands wrapped in a spell of invisibility. By invisibility, the Queen of the Dark Dimension camouflages herself against the inky night. By other magics, the Defender obscures the demoniac's extrasensory vision as someone has Dr. Strange and Clea's. In-person and in close proximity, she has the power to beat Beliar at his own game.

Actually, Mephisto has been blocking the two Sorcerers Supreme. But, he has not revealed himself to Strange, Clea, or Pandemonium. The duplicitous devil plays his own game pernicious to all parties.

Beliar realizes that he must change strategy. "We must change strategy, Nightshade," Beliar tells Nightshade, "Someone mystical somehow suppresses my scrying."

From the rear, Riglevio responds, "Master Pandemonium, how is it possible that someone frustrates your scrying? Is that nuisance Dr. Strange nearby?"

"I know not. I don't see anyone," answers the bemused leader, "Let us send the Vulture to the damned damsel's balcony. He can snatch Joy Meachum for us. Then, we can get the hell out of here."

Creature considers, "We were not going to use Vulture directly in the kidnapping. Vulture's nemesis Spider-Man is Iron Fist's current ally. If around, the Webslinger might swing-in and swiftly defeat his familiar foe."

"I am sure that the abominable, ominous avian overhead would appreciate your ringing endorsement," Master states sarcastically. Of course, he knows that the demon does not actually care if she offends people.

Switching channels, Master Pandemonium orders Vulture to grab the girl. The charnel criminal changes his flight path and glides gracefully as Death toward his intended target. Concealed Spider-Man sees the trespasser come into the proverbial web. Below, Beliar is likewise entangled. The wary Beliar would like to call a retreat, but he has communication with neither Bullet nor Eel. And, his designed deed is almost accomplished anyway. He is sort of stuck like a bug in the gossamer.

Like Beliar, Nightshade reconsiders the operation occurring. She considers that Vulture was supposed to provide only recon while Eel and Bullet absconded with Rand's Joy. She considers how Cobra was supposed to quietly provide ground security. She ruminates over how Cobra himself got skilled strategist Nightshade to oddly agree to this odd arrangement. The Serpent Squad, Cobra and Eel, are sneakier body-snatchers than Eel and Bullet, a bullish buffoon more suitable to supervise the street. Somehow, the current King Cobra was very persuasive. Nightshade second-guesses him now, and the perturbed she-wolf begins to seethe. Snarling, Nightshade gnashes her teeth and kneads her knuckles. Unlike a heroine, the villainess has no ability to make lemonade from lemons (such as being grateful that vile Vulture is a plan B). The psychopath scratches-up her scalp and screams. She wonders wildly "Where the hell is Cobra right now?!"

Northwest of Nightshade, Netherworlder Mephisto pretends to be Netherlander Klaus Voorhees on the Upper West Side. From behind his mask, Voorhees views vulnerable and naked Martina Tereshkova showering in silhouette. But a plastic curtain shields her from a force of nature. The seeping sheet separates her from the Serpent personified. Lust, wrath, and all sin incarnate, the Beast sits on Martina's bed beholding his next snack. Squeaking, the shower rings slide aside exposing the wet woman to her adversary. Cobra creeps into the closet close to the bed.

Martina steps out of the shower and crosses her unlit efficiency. Her nightclothes lie neatly on the bed. The bodyguard hopes that she can get some shut eye. Part of her insists that _she_ should be with Danny Rand right now, not her double (surely the craziest thing that she will encounter all evening). Watchdog Tereshkova lives to be of service to good men such as hero Iron Fist.

Heaving her heavy bust, Martina reaches for her sleepwear. At her back, the snake springs from the closet. Cobra coils his sinuous arm around her neck. Limper leathery legs clasp her hard hips. Cobra chokes the chick, and the capable combatant responds. Expertly-throw elbows impact ultra-flexible form—futilely. Unfazed, Cobra snaps her neck. Her nude flesh flops flat on the floor to fester until authorities find it eventually.

Utterly evil, Mephisto is too slothful to rush back to his comrades combatting champions at a Park Avenue penthouse, and he is too prideful, and gluttonous, to not indulge in celebratory pleasure before leaving Martina. He steps away from her cooling corpse, and he strides into the kitchen. Mephisto noticed some vodka there. To him, he deserves a drink after assuring that the Lord of Evil will prank good rather than good fooling him. Cracking the cap, the fiend feels fantastic that others will feel sad over a senseless death. Cobra swigs the fiery fluid, and Mephisto within watches the world burn.

Malevolent Vulture alights silently upon the balcony outside Joy's home. Eel slides open the patio door and beckons him inside. Adrian Toomes enters the living room furnished with fine things, and the old thief's avarice nearly distracts him from his present objective. Eel redirects him toward the object of that present objective. In the next room, keen Vulture hears a faucet running and a female humming as a sound system softly provides music. The music is beautiful to Toomes' ears. It might help cover an Eel and Vulture's approach and ambush.

"Joy Meachum is in the kitchen doing dishes," Eel confirms.

"Her cleaning staff must be at home at this hour, unable to help her," the old vandal wets his lips.

Eel offers a plan of attack, "We can outflank the unaware woman. That archway goes into the dining room abutting the kitchen, where Joy washes the dishes."

"You lead me," Vulture volunteers, "Stun her with your gloves. Then, I can carry her away into the night to awaiting Nightshade."

"Sure. Let's go," eager Eel escorts Adrian.

The prowlers pad into the dining area. Before them, an elm table gleams beneath twin pendant lights. Around the table, leathered elm chairs sit. Over a chair back, a woman's bolero hangs above the leather high heels left on the carpet. Upon the table, a compact sound system spreads relaxing jazz over the scene. Beyond, a Symkarian grandfather clock stands beside a Transylvanian mirror, and a Tibetan painting possibly depicting legendary K'un-Lun. A large Atlantean wicker basket sits before the ticking clock. Woven underwater, the exquisite art object is a gift from former Meachum associate Namor McKenzie.

To the left, there is a short, dark hallway leading to a lit foyer. No one appears to be down there.

Eel points Vulture to the right. There, a broad wooden divider stretches for ten feet. Its countertop houses the stove and oven beneath a hanging hood. The countertop's granite surface has a walnut cutting board, a cherry knife set (two missing), and a microwave. Over each side, two pine cabinets hang, attached to the ceiling. To the divider's right, a trash bin and recycle bin sit. To the divider's left, a chromed refrigerator stands with Joy Meachum's muddled reflection in it. Framed between all of this, an attractive blonde does dishes in her white sleeveless dress. Overhead illumination shines on her silky hair, ivory arms, and sheer stockings. It shines upon the waxed floor and gives the whole scene a certain glow.

Ogling the scene, Vulture would blush if the scoundrel had more shame. But, a long life of crime has removed Adrian Toomes' sense of decency. He dallies with the six-foot, strong cord in his hands. Vulture ripped it from the drapes while in the living room. He shall use it to bind the blonde babe to his back once Eel knocks her out. That way, he can conveniently fly to Beliar with the trussed load. Middle-aged men and veteran menaces are adroit pragmatists.

Vulture sees that Eel is now behind the damsel due for distress. The skulker poises his harmful hand at her bare shoulder before . . . tapping her on the shoulder, to Vulture's surprise.

"Now, Colleen!" Eel shouts. The duplicitous dastard ducks while the imposter pirouettes.

"Joy Meachum is Irish. No s**t," thinks Toomes for half-of-a-tick. Then, the numbskull notices the butcher knife that the colleen has winged. Her flaxen wig falls from bunned auburn hair. Vulture's right hand rises, and it snatches the incoming blade innocuously. His hand is uncut, and his fast fingers flip the hilt into his palm forthwith.

Everything happens at once. With his right arm, Adrian aims the knife for a return trip. To his left, Misty Knight leaps from the Atlantean wicker basket. Knight charges knave. From the hallway, Iron Fist rushes. He flying sidekicks the entire length of the dining room table. Fist's foot plants Vulture against the solid divider. Danny rolls right. He concentrates chi into his clenched hand. Misty arrives. Knight's bionic grip seeks Vulture's augmented arm. But, his expeditious uppercut sends her impressively through the air. She clumsily crashes into the grandfather clock. Colleen flying sidekicks over the kitchen counter. Her foot slams Vulture off the table behind him.

Vulture is a tough old bird. It is four on one right now. But, Adrian Toomes is an animal who instinctively reacts with ferocious violence. The Vulture flaps his wicked wings in Colleen's face. The martial artist knows to block them is to break her forearms, so she stoops low, under them, instead. Instantly, awful Adrian Toomes brings down the butcher knife with both hands. Stiffening, the stalwart samurai arrests the downward sweep with both hands, both legs, and all of her might. Vulture's powerful arm presses her into a painful squat. In seconds, the seven inches of steel will pierce her skull.

In a blink, Iron Fist arrives. His Iron Fist strikes the energized harness giving Vulture his name and his power. The powerpunch dents the enhancing apparatus, and descending hands are not so dominant. Colleen can push them back a wee. Iron Fist strikes again—into the kidney. Collywobbles carry through the crazed cutthroat. Colleen can flip her knife-wielding attacker, and she does flip him headfirst through the divider's pine paneling.

Vulture's bald head breaks through board. Temporarily, Vulture is stuck in a hole with his ass in the air like an ostrich. Tacitly, the heroic trio knows that they must subdue him immediately—even by rough means. An Iron Fist impacts the other kidney. Bionic knuckles rap ribs repeatedly. Karate kicks clop a body. The body's head is under the stove, and its eyes light up at seeing something there.

Promptly, seemingly from pain, Vulture punches through the paneling and breaks something in his tight quarters. Something begins to whistle wickedly, but the whooping, whupping heroes cannot hear it. The heroic trio delivers three more blows with boots, slippers, and bared feet before Vulture explodes the encasing kitchen island aside and stands erect. The fearsome creature raises his formidable wings in defiance. Undeterred, the heroes and Eel take positions around their foe, "desperate" and outnumbered.

Spider-Man rappels from the roof to the balcony and races across the living room. He joins his friends. It is five on one now against the tough old bird. With the element of surprise, Spider-Man webs Vulture's wings to the cabinets on either side of them. Vulture stands momentarily spread eagle. Eel rabbit punches him. Colleen connects a right cross. Misty lands a left hook. Iron Fist jab, jab, jabs into the face. Pounded Vulture plays possum temporarily. Punishing paladins pause a sec to assess their addled opponent.

Snapping alert, Vulture punts Iron Fist onto the dining room table. Iron Fist's ass wrecks the radio beneath it, and smooth jazz ceases to accompany this melee. Shrieking, Vulture fires two feathers from his wings at the warrior women flanking him. The metallic feathers are like two high-velocity cutlasses, and the lasses have to swiftly duck. Spider-Man springs forward to save the day. But, summoning all of his fury, Vulture rips down both heavy, hanging cabinets simultaneously. He sandwiches Spidey between them just as Webhead arrives. Wood, china, and cookware buffet and bury Misty and Colleen. Vulture's hands rip the webbing from his sleeves, slightly ripping the sleeves.

Vulture turns toward Eel just standing there, "Well, aren't you going to attack me, traitor? Aren't you going to shoot a burning electric bolt through my body?"

Eel raises inert gloves seemingly submissively. Then, he points down toward the stove, "I smell natural gas. Who the f**k has a gas range in f**king 2016?"

"It's a hipster thing," Iron Fist explains from the eating area.

Around Rand, heroes rise from wrecked furnishing. Flinging debris aside, Spider-Man stands and confronts Vulture. The two nemeses are face-to-face as the natural gas whistles and the flammable fluid hisses. Vulture quickdraws the plasma blaster stored in his harness. He aims to kill everyone. Spider-Man is quick too, and Spidey shoots first. His webbing caps the peeping pipe. Plasma does not penetrate the protective pulp.

Spidey slugs his old enemy into the fridge door, and he swiftly shoots strands onto the appliance. When yanked, the refrigerator drops atop the villain. Moving in, the Spider-Man seizes the hefty steel chest and repeatedly slams it with a vengeance onto his stubborn adversary. Seemingly, his foe finally lies unconscious. Peter Parker breathes a little easier in the volatile air. The Amazing Avenger flings flaccid foul to Nightwing Restorations and Iron Fist awaiting outside the kitchen. The felon lands limply on the dining room table.

"Roadkill is served," chef Spidey jokes.

Jaunty Misty takes charge, "Let's get him out of his stinking super-harness and into some handcuffs. I have two pair."

Crafty Colleen produces cutlery, "Let's get his costume off."

"Nothing shall you see, and nothing have you seen yet," intones Adrian Toomes with eyes still closed as he lies languidly recumbent.

Heroes hesitate. Vulture's voice sounds very different. Also, there is no way in hell that the sinister one (of the Sinister Six) is not out by now. Right?

Vulture's right wing fires a 9 mm—another wing weapon—off of Knight's artificial right arm. His left hand clamps the dress cloth between Colleen's cleavage, and he hurls her hard off of the ceiling. Fortunately, she goes limp as she bounces intact from above to unforgiving floor. Vulture, the resilient rascal, raises himself unsteadily onto his elbows.

Iron Fist tackles the terror. Irritated, he headbutts battered, bloody blackguard several times. Vulture opens his eyes. And, astonishingly, avian orbs look back into Iron Fist's bewildered ones. With unnatural vertebral flexibility, Adrian Toomes headbutts Danny Rand back. Danny massages his sore schnoz. Suddenly, sharp nails scratch him wildly about the torso, and Vulture squawks in frenzied furor. Iron Fist decides to wisely dismount the downed varmint.

"I'll bind him to the table," Spider-Man announces. He aims his web-shooters.

With unprecedented able aim, Vulture launches two xiphoid feathers precisely and impeccably at the arriving webs. The interceptors parry the lines. With last energies, Azmodeus is making his last stand. The shapeshifter tries to rise. Valiant Knight pins him to the table. Gallant Wing breaks a chair over his chest. Vulture's wing barrages both overhanging lamps with semi-auto fire. Broken glass flies. Knight and Wing back off. Spider-Man and Iron Fist jump in. They pin Vulture and prepare to pound him, hopefully into submission.

Vulture decks Iron Fist so hard that it makes him see birdies. Stunned hero staggers back. Spider-Man decks Vulture so hard that it makes his head spin. Amazingly, the head actually does go 180 with inhuman give. With astounding pliancy, Vulture contorts from beneath Spider-Man astraddle him. Instantly, Vulture scissorlocks Spidey. Speedily, Spider-Man smacks and slaps Vulture slack. Screaming, Vulture flails his feet into the champion's chest and face as though having a tantrum. Spider-Man cannot believe what he is seeing. Suddenly, tan talons rip through green boots, and they grab arachnid arms before anyone knows what is happening. Spidey now really cannot believe what he is seeing. Screeching, the angry bird flaps his wings and rises like a fallen angel. With an unholy crack, the vulturine creature blasts the apartment's confined space with a wind gust such as the supervillain has never before produced.

Colleen Wing lands in her dishwater over the divider. Eel slides into overturned garbage. Misty Knight flies through the arch to the living room. She lands safely—but comically-on an overstuffed couch. Iron Fist sails through solid stucco into the hallway lavatory. Danny worries that Joy's place might be a little uninhabitable after this brawl.

Rocketing backward, Vulture shoots himself straight down the narrow hallway, and he takes pinioned Spider-Man with him. The two crash through one wooden door, over carpet, through another wooden door, through plaster walls in the domicile across the way, and through glass eight stories over 62nd Street. Exhausted Azmodeus releases Webslinger and attempts to escape. However, the hero will not let the evildoer get away. Webbing globs onto buzzard bastard. And, Vulture takes his old enemy over the Upper East Side and across the sky. Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man, smiles under his mask and enjoys the ride.


	13. Chap 13: Bang!

**Chapter 13: Bang!**

In Joy Meachum's penthouse, Colleen Wing wrings dirty dishwater from her dainty dress. Feet away, Eel likewise cleans-up. He knocks the garbage's food scraps, paper, and other from his already unctuous person. Across the room, Iron Fist dusts the dun plaster from his buff mask after going through a wall. From the other room, Misty Knight strolls in looking no worse for wear after flying through a doorway. Everyone examines the exit made by Vulture just now. From Meachum's pad, they can see all the way across 62nd Street to the skyscraper facing theirs. Eel shakes his head. He swears that Vulture will do more damage than he plans to this night.

Without warning, Misty Knight puts a gun to Eel's temple. She cocks the pistol. Turning his eyes, Eel peers at her peripherally. He wonders whether she will explain herself or not. Although, any spymaster could anticipate this double-cross.

Misty Knight explains, "You're under arrest, Spymaster. Nightwing Restorations has decided to collect your federal bounty and to share it with our favorite Hero for Hire, Iron Fist."

Iron Fist further explains, "You don't get to nearly murder Misty and me and get away with it."

Nearby, Colleen Wing twirls a wrapped dishtowel like faux nunchuks. Dancing in, she wraps the taut cloth around Eel's neck and tightens the garrote over his throat. Eel will not be slipping away.

Wing whispers sternly, "Surrender. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way."

Colleen chokes Spymaster slightly. Misty shakes her pistol. Iron Fist brandishes his infamous fist.

"Okay" is all that Spymaster says. He reaches up and pulls Eel's mask from his face. Nathan Lemon looks Danny in the eye, "Do you know what they call fishing for eels? Sniggling. And, that looks like what you have done to me. You baited and tricked me so as to catch me. You sniggled me."

"The word 'sniggle' can also mean to snicker," Knight contributes, "And, trust me. We three are sniggling at you now."

"Yeah well, you got me," Lemon laughs back, "Would you like me out of this dangerous suit? I promise no funny business."

"Sure, strip to your skivvies, Spymaster. We'll let you," Misty steps away. She signals Colleen to release her leash.

The noose leaves Eel's neck. Blue steel remains fixed on the espionage elite. Spymaster unlocks the electric gauntlets from his wrists, and they clunk disarmed to the floor. The devices are not innocuous, however. Without the heroes noticing, the sneaky, skilled saboteur activated an extra in a gauntlet just now. Soon, that Stark tech on Knight's arm will go a wee wonky. Nathan winks at Misty. Willingly, Lemon pulls the Eel tunic over his T-shirt.

Iron Fist watches the oily rag plop atop the weaponry. Danny comments, "I have fought Edward Lavell, a.k.a. the Eel, twice. It is odd to see another usurping his identity."

Lemon pulls off a boot, "Yeah well, Eddie once stole the identity of Sylvester Marston, a.k.a. Snake Marston. So, what goes around comes around."

Rand wonders, "How did you get Eel's supersuit?"

"I did not kill him. Toad did that a while back in Madripor," the imposter makes clear, "Madripor crimeboss Viper simply sold me the scumbag's suit. I sanitized it before wearing it, for Eel sorta oozed at his moment of death."

"No s**t," Iron Fist reacts.

Lemon pulls off his other boot, and Spymaster subtly activates another device. In the boot shaft, a tiny circuit switches and sends a signal. Somewhere, Whirlwind knows that his partner-in-crime is in trouble. Nonchalantly, the baddy tosses the beacon boot aside.

To the left, Colleen Wing commands, "Now britches." She points with a barbeque fork.

With a flourish, Nathan flings his trousers. With a sleight of hand, he palms something from the interior waist. Without noticing, the heroes watch him conceal it up his boxers' back. A small cylinder clips to the pant leg.

"Shall we go?" the cad cordially invites the crimefighters to escort him, "The authorities should be arriving soon in response to the din of battle." Sly Spymaster smiles broadly without and within. He might just have further tumult planned, beyond even an incoming Whirlwind.

Misty smirks in Nathan's face. Then, she slaps the cuffs on him. Smiling still, he stands sedately with hands behind his back. Suddenly, Knight clamps cuffs between Lemon's right arm and her left. Stoic, he stares at her.

Knight tells him, "I brought two pair tonight. One was for Adrian Toomes. One was for you. Now, both are for you. Isn't that nice?"

"You're clever," compliments the wily rogue.

"March!" Colleen smacks the prisoner on the ass. The quartet gets moving.

Misty mentions to Danny, "We should have strip-searched him. We should at least frisk him now. Trust me. As an ex-cop, I know that a scumbag can secret something nasty most anywhere."

Danny says to Misty, "We are not doing either action. We just watched him remove his Eel outfit. He is now unarmed, disrobed, surrounded by us three, and attached securely to you. Spymaster would be one stupid intelligencer if he attempted anything."

Colleen speaks. She supports her partner, "Let me frisk him, Danny. The snoop might still have something up his sleeve."

"Or pants leg," Spymaster thinks to himself. Frowning, he fears that he might have to quickly conceal the cylinder elsewhere on his person.

But, Iron Fist intercedes, "Colleen, Spymaster did just help us. To humiliate him would be dishonorable."

"Thank you" Spymaster is sure to say. Wing falls silent. The Daughters of the Dragon follow Iron Fist down the building's stairs. Along the way, Misty Knight checks a digital display in her enhanced arm. It informs her that the NYPD are en route. Around the fourth floor, Colleen reminds Danny that Beliar and Nightshade are still outside. Iron Fist replies that Clea is too. At ground floor, Iron Fist excuses himself. He must go to the basement and secure downed Bullet. The two women take their captive toward the sidewalk.

Across the street, Beliar sees the trio exit. Nightwing Restorations walk Nathan Lemon abreast. Nathan and Beliar met in a Connecticut bar once to plan Iron Fist's demise. Beliar recognizes Nathan "Spymaster" Lemon, and the demoniac recognizes that he must now devise the double-dealer's demise. Surely, Spymaster, whom Beliar screwed, sabotages this midnight's machinations, he and whatever tricky fellow wears the Cobra costume.

Pandemonium radios Riglevio in the van's hold. Upon hearing, the homicidal henchwoman is jointly mad and glad. On one hand, the hellion is enraged that someone duped the diablos. On the other hand, an unclean spirit cherishes opportunities for violence and vengeance, so Nightshade is overjoyed to possibly obliterate the Daughters of the Dragon and a traitor. As sirens near, Nightshade orders that the truck gun into Park Avenue.

Concealed Clea hears the transmission. In turn, the invisible heroine mounts the runningboard, and the Fearless Defender dogs the evildoers. Through the ether, Queen Clea summons the Master of the Mystic Arts. This night's denouement arrives.

Through the air, the diesel roars to life. Knight notices. Wing announces that Beliar and Nightshade are escaping. Knight and Wing pause with their prisoner at the corner of Park and 62nd. They see the van do a wicked u-ie and accelerate at them. Six eyes go wide. "Move!" Colleen pushes Misty and Nathan mightily aside. The hurtling three-ton transport nearly catastrophically clips the criminal and the couple. It careens across Park Avenue until beaching upon a grassy, bushy traffic island.

"Holy crap!" utters Misty. Colleen supposes that startled Misty reacts to the attempted vehicular homicide. Then, Wing notices what is actually discombobulating Misty. And, Wing is surprised too.

"I say!" Colleen beholds Misty's hand, "What the f**k is going on?!"

Misty grimaces in frustration. The Knight's mechanical limb malfunctions magnificently. Her right arm spasms, dances, flips, and jerks as though possessed. Locked to her left, Spymaster looks on pleased. His gauntlet gambit, back in the penthouse, his gauntlet device has worked. There is no Stark technology that Spymaster cannot sabotage, and there certainly are no common handcuffs that he cannot conquer. Contorting his phalanges, Lemon frees his hands from behind his back. His eyes dart quickly right, then left. The criminal commando has all of five seconds to drop the distracted Daughters of the Dragon.

In the first second, Spymaster leaps high. His foot kicks Colleen in the occiput, the back of the head. She pitches forward. Next, the hood's free hand pistolwhips the loose handcuffs across her face. Furious, Knight yanks Lemon with her left arm, linked to him.

Then, Knight's right hand clocks her unconscious of its own accord. Lemon laughs, sure that Misty hates getting hacked. Spymaster yanks limp lady to him.

In the street, Nightshade kicks open the cube's overhead door. She makes gun fingers at Nathan and Colleen across the way before blithely skipping into the truck's inky interior. Raspberrying Nathan is sure to flip her off.

On the truck's exterior, Clea manifests on the cab's starboard side. Beliar barely notices the sorceress before her glowing glove gesticulates. Her hex blasts the door glass inward. Glass shards savagely slice and embed. Beliar screams.

"Surrender!" demands the Dread Dame of the Dark Dimension.

At the curb, Spymaster kneels over fallen Knight. With her key, he undoes the shackle between them. Suddenly, a resilient Colleen Wing knees him in the face. Snarling, she grabs his shirt front and punches. Nimbly, Spymaster catches her wrist, and Taskmaster's star pupil monkeyflips the master martial artist. Momentarily, the wind leaves Wing. Colleen lies slack beside motionless Misty. Nathan scoops-up Misty's magnum, and he sights the barrel on Nightshade in the hauler.

Nathan's jaw drops. In the shipper's shadows, he discerns the machine gun from Fox's Bowery lair. Nightshade has repaired the weapon, and the deadly device is fixed upon him. Spymaster wishes that he were as prone as the girls presently. He wishes that he had his usual Kevlar suit. Instead, an enemy has literally caught him with his pants down. From the tenebres, Nightshade illuminates the night terribly. Sweeping, the M-2 spits fire like the devil's breath. Fifty-cal rounds wreck brick and steel. One mere shot mutilates Spymaster sufficiently to end him, exploding his innards outward. Another round removes his gunhand entirely. The dead man drops. Nightshade beams. Her thumbs leave the buttons blasting forth the barrage.

Colleen Wing looks on with some shock at pulped Lemon. But, the samurai suppresses mortification; Misty must be moved to safety. Colleen makes motions to do so.

A ways behind Wing, Iron Fist peeks from the doorway that he guarded earlier. Iron Fist has dragged unconscious Bullet from the basement. Seeing the scene, Danny drops his prisoner and dashes to his pals.

In the near distance, approaching emergency personnel slow their vehicles. The rescuers heard and saw automatic weapon fire just now. They wait for super types to do their thing.

At the pandemonium, Clea does her thing. The superheroine orders a bad guy to surrender. The mighty thaumaturge threatens to blast Beliar to bits. She assures him that she has the ability. Beliar replies that he has telekinesis too. Unceremoniously, an eldritch force flings Clea all the way to the cops stopped at 59th Street.

At 62nd and Park, splattered Spymaster lies in his blood and juices. The mauled man is barely alive. Nathan Lemon will live for but five seconds more, and the unclean man swears by . . . that he will have revenge. He is grateful to Chemistro, Iron Fist's old foe. For silver, Chemistro designed a very compact and powerful explosive easily concealed beneath Beliar's van. By Nathan's bottom, the detonator sits. Frigid fingers fumble compact cylinder from shorts. Trembling thumb depresses button. Sneering Spymaster dies thinking that he tricked the devil.

There is a fiendish flash and hellish heat. And, titanic thunder sunders the air. Into the ebon sky, a pillar of fire ascends into a mushroom cloud. Into the solid ground, a whopping crater collapses with a clamorous crack, and waves rumble the earth in all directions. To the south, earth flies, and a church's windows shatter. To the north, fancy facades fracture from old, ornate, office buildings. To one side, the Colony Club crunches partially in. To the other side, the explosion hits the heroes.

Iron Fist's costume shreds in a shower of excoriating asphalt and searing heat. His body skids him over the sidewalk and street. It is nearly the death of Iron Fist. Colleen Wing takes flight into the brick behind her; then, she falls into oblivion, unconscious. Languid Misty Knight floats, flips, and flops upon the turbulent thermal swells. But, she lands safely against supine Colleen, and she snuggles beneath her Wing.

At the epicenter, the dazzling detonation destroys two dark ones. Nightshade is blown to bits. Her goo drizzles and decorates the entire area. Riglevio is a demon destroyed. Riglevio will not reform anytime soon.

Beliar is blown heavenward. Powerful winds rip the limbs from his body, and punishing fires strip the glamour from his form. The Beliar guise is no more. Instead, manifest Master Pandemonium howls in agony above the earth. Unnaturally, ectoplasm hemorrhages from him instead of human blood. Unnaturally, he lives despite his mortal wounds. The cursed man falls back into the inferno. Limbless, the basket case bellows pathetically as he lies afire with no way to put himself out.

From nowhere, Dr. Strange appears and stands over the low Master Pandemonium. The hero conjures water from mid-air to extinguish miserable Martin Preston. With pity, Stephen Strange peers into Preston's face. Those handsome features once led a charmed life on the silver screen. Sightly hair and skin are charred now, and smoke rises from the crimson costume affixed to the eternally-condemned amputee. The red robe's crest is the sign of the devil, and the disciple of order cannot but feel powerful pity for his enemy, this miserable wretch.

"Master!" cries a creature before a nearby church. Pandemonium placed a Rakasha demon there to reserve Cobra a parking space. The imp would aid its master. However, appropriately, a large piece of pane tumbles from the damaged church. The stained-glass shard decollates the demon as by divine intervention.

Gently, Dr. Strange levitates agonized, overcome Martin Preston. He addresses the evil actor, "Master Pandemonium, I promise to send you to a better place, Raggadorr. The Rains of Raggadorr will heal you physically as they do all ailments. But, Raggadorr will be also your place of banishment, your prison. It has held dark mages Kaluu the Black and Arisen Tyrk the Lunatic. The Seven Rings of Raggadorr will hold you in check as well. Your banishment will keep the Mortal Plane safe, and it just might save you. Raggadorr, Scourge of Demons, might just protect you from the odious patron whom you have so foolishly plotted to please."

"No, no god will," sounds a voice through the smoke-choked street. A quiver of Cobra darts fly forth.


	14. Chap 14: Live Prey

**Chapter 14: Live Prey**

Vulture appears dead. Or rather, the abomination Azmodeus appears dead strung-up from a tree bough. Behind Azmodeus, Grant's Tomb provides an apt background for the limp figure, caked with blood, costume tattered like a shroud. Though unconscious, the inverted avian looks like a harvested (silly) goose.

Spider-Man examines the body hanging from the ash bough. The Webslinger gazes amazed. This creature is not Adrian Toomes. At least, Peter Parker prays that it is not old, crazy Adrian. This thing has popped actual plumage and an actual beak. Its hands are claws, and its feet are talons. Spider-Man would not wish this chimerical change on his enemy.

Spidey's old foe Whirlwind stands right beside the Webslinger (see _Amazing Spider-Man Annual_ #37). The rogue also studies the carcass attached to the branch above. Whirlwind whistles and shakes his head. Half an hour back, he was in Spymaster's vicinity—playing wingman—while the ersatz Eel bamboozled Beliar and crew. Suddenly, Vulture and Spider-Man came, combatting each other, across the sky. Cannon decided to help the hero batter one of Beliar's men. Now, here the three are four-miles northwest in Morningside Heights.

The Human Top points to the upside-down creature. "Well s**t, that is a helluva sight," the bad guy notes.

Spider-Man addresses his unexpected ally, "Helluva sight is right. The freak has to be something straight outta hell. Over Central Park, I ripped the power harness from its back, and it still flew. Over the Beacon Theater, your buzzblades removed its arms, and it regrew them before ever hitting the ground. You should have seen the scene in the apartment; four heroes beat the unholy crap out of this oddity. God willing, this thing is not man Adrian Toomes."

"Abner Jenkins is a mutual acquaintance between Vulture and me," states Whirlwind, "The Beetle has never described the Vulture as so wacko as to transmute himself so drastically."

Spidey shakes his head, "I am always surprised how many of my rogues gallery do purposefully alter themselves obscenely: Scorpion, Lizard, Rhino, Kangaroo, Vermin. It's a zoo out there."

"Say, aren't you transmuted?" Whirlwind ponders, "That would be my guess."

"Yeah well, accidentally," Spidey accedes.

Whirlwind blurts, "Aw s**t! I feel like a nincompoop!"

"Hey now, you did not know," the Friendly Neighborhood one kindly dismisses the goon's misjudgment.

"No," Cannon corrects Spidey's misjudgment, "I just noticed, just now, a text sent during our Vulture battle. Spymaster sent an s.o.s. from the Meachum apartment. I gotta go!" Whirlwind activates his spin.

"Wait! Stay here!" Spidey shakes a finger, "Does he need aid against Beliar's baddies? Or, are you attacking my allies?"

The Master of Evil is a noncompliant sort. He neither stays nor answers. Lifting from the ground, Whirlwind flies fleetly into the night sky. Spider-Man considers pursuing. However, Prof. Parker does the math. He is the one who should stay with the hung prisoner until police arrive, and his five associates (Iron Fist, Knight and Wing, Dr. Strange and Clea) are more than capable of cleaning a cad's clock. Spider-Man strolls around Vulture and wonders when cops will carry away captured carrion.

Southbound, David Cannon contemplates what he has just seen. Whirlwind can kind of feel for Vulture, or whoever that is. The female Phantom Rider recently strung-up whupped Whirlwind topsy-turvy like that. It was an unpleasant experience. Of course, Cannon does not consider how much he is an unpleasant individual too. The truth be told, David Cannon and Jaime Slade are both scumbags obsessed with certain women, especially Wasp and Mockingbird. Whirlwind and Phantom Rider both just beg for some hellfire and brimstone in their miserable lives.

Abruptly, a massive explosion occurs eight blocks south of Whirlwind. He alights on a high rooftop and examines the infernal scene below. The scallywag is glad that he did not respond to Spymaster's distress call sooner. He is glad to not be down in the fires.

In the smoldering environs, Dr. Strange is not a coward like Whirlwind. The Master of the Mystic Arts confronts the King Cobra trying to kill him. With a dismissing wave, the Defender deflects the poison darts shot his way. With authority, the sorcerer shines the Eye of Agamotto upon Cobra. As expected, the Eye reveals that Cobra is not Cobra at all beneath his skin. The Doctor calmly lowers levitated Pandemonium safely to the ground.

"Mephisto," the Sorcerer Supreme calls the Serpent by name.

Illuminated, Mephisto strides through the destruction and carnage left by the bomb blast. The air burns, and stinging soot rides the blackened breezes. There is fear and pain all around. There are heroes futilely and foolishly opposing Mephisto. In this scorched earth, the devil feels right at home. Of course, Dr. Strange feels at home too opposing evil, by Agamotto's light.

Strange's compatriot Clea is also a Defender of men. Riding the winds, the sorceress arrives behind Cobra and barrages his back with eldritch bolts. But, serpentine Cobra dodges each shot with superlative flexibility. His deadly darts are a return salvo. But, sharp Clea sees them coming, and her mystic shield simply stops them.

Dr. Strange badgers Mephisto, "Why do you shoot toys at us, arch-fiend? Is your power so enervated after protracted time on Earth's Mortal Plane?"

Mephisto answers, "Stephen Strange, I am more constant than the earth and stars. I have been around since ten thousand millennia before any Sorcerer Supreme, and I shall still walk the Earth ten thousand millennia after you are gone. Evil endures."

"So do the Vishanti—Agamotto, Oshtur, and Hoggoth—the guardians of good," Dr. Strange replies, "Clea and I could call upon the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth right now to tame you. The Beast is too long from his lair, and your power fades by the hour outside of Hell."

"Yeah, listen to the Arcane Avenger," someone croaks. Mephisto looks left. Iron Fist staggers through the haze like a determined trouper. Apparently, the warrior really can summon the last ounce of his personal energy.

Returning to Strange, Mephisto glowers, and he summons his remaining powers. The Prince of Lies knows the truth that he has visited the Mortal Plane for a while now and that his puissance wanes the longer that he stays. Those are the laws of the cosmos. Disciples of order, such as Strange and Clea, know them well. However, the Devil knows at least one other truth. He can always lie. He can always deceive and beguile.

"I'll show you," Mephisto warns the three Defenders.

In an instant, Cobra's limbs meld with his body, and the snake flops into the dirt. Cobra's entire body elongates incredibly along the avenue and keeps growing. Its girth grows greatly in proportion. Great scales grow upon it. Cobra's visage distorts into an actual cobra's mien, although giant. The magnificent monster rears its ugly head high above its two-hundred foot body.

Instantly, Dr. Strange and Clea fire upon the huge target. Surely, their magic missiles can only hit home. However, Mephisto is a tricky one. Instead of injuring, eldritch bolts pass through his ethereal form sans harming him. They do threaten the fools firing them, however. The two master mages must quickly, comically shield themselves from each other's fire. The towering snake appears to grin. In a jiffy, his jumbo tail cracks Clea aside. Her shield saves her serious injury. In a split second, Mephisto's mouth spits voluminous venom upon Strange's shield. Impossibly, the aegis disintegrates, and Strange must step back or be destroyed as well. The snake laughs. Dr. Strange pauses a moment to devise a plan quickly.

Bold Iron Fist charges the giant snake. The resolute warrior would whale the whopping wyvern. He hops onto its back and digs one hand beneath its scales. The champion clutches the collar of the colossal cobra. His other hand becomes like unto a thing of iron. The raging fist raises. . . . .

The monstrous cobra rises over helpless, limbless Master Pandemonium wailing on the ground. Dr. Strange levitates to the thing's face. The Master of the Mystic Arts begins summoning the extraordinary powers necessary to foil a Hell-Lord. On the leviathan, Iron Fist strikes. His fist cracks scale and explodes flesh. Yet, the Serpent laughs. Around the fighter's forearm, the trickster's ichor and thew solidify like mortar. Trapped, Iron Fist pulls against the tarry body, but he cannot escape its gluey grip. Then, the meaty mortar ignites. Hellfire both burns and chills the champion. He howls in shock.

Dr. Strange releases his awesome almighty incantation, but he too exclaims in shock. The spell reverses. Omnipotent Oshtur casts Dr. Strange into Limbo instead of Mephisto. Nick Scratch is still that powerful.

With the forces of good spread all over hell and gone, the Beast addresses Master Pandemonium, "Martin Preston, you are my former thrall. In exchange for my patronage, you have given me your soul, your limbs, and your human dignity Yet, in recent times, you have sought to offer me even more in exchange for my consideration."

"I have been miserable without you!" declares the burnt abject amputee, "I am your servant!"

"You are my jackanapes and my jester. Like a fool, you offer me a human sacrifice that I can already easily acquire," Mephisto wriggles the listless Iron Fist implanted in his back.

"Please!" pleads Pandemonium, "I shall do anything, Mephisto! Simply slay me and end my constant suffering!"

"No, Martin, you amuse me. You are such a muse to me that I have fostered your recent machinations," replies the Lord of Evil.

Heroine Clea flies through the night sky toward the devilish duo. Like Strange, she gathers her powers for a big spell for beating the big serpent. Mephisto spies her from the corner of his eye. The waning wight had best hasten his retreat.

The giant cobra brandishes immense fangs and a gaping maw above his live prey. As the damned squeals, the Rakasha demons return to their damned host as though he called them. The phantom of the parking space re-enters Pandemonium's being. Riglevio's remains—spread over a thousand directions—return home. Into mid-air, they precipitate into a sloppy mass of crimson goop that slurps into Pandemonium. To the north, Azmodeus rises on a sudden air current as though conscious. Sentinel Spider-Man prepares to combat again his seemingly indefatigable foe. However, Azmodeus simply disappears into the eerie breeze. To the south, Pandemonium re-absorbs his familiar.

Mephisto re-acquires Pandemonium. The giant cobra's head comes down upon the protesting vermin. And, like Cronus, Mephisto horrendously swallows his child. Over Mephisto, Clea readies to drop the Hammer of Hoary Hoggoth upon him. Quickly, the cobra smashes its own head into the firmament. And, the entire phantasmal abomination phases through the solid cement as though diving into the underworld. Snake and servant disappear. Iron Fist slams facefirst into concrete, for the devil leaves the good man be.

The street is still and silent for a few seconds. Then, the awaiting emergency personnel rush forward to aid the injured, both civilian and superhero. Descending, Queen Clea attends down-to-earth work such as checking-on bleeding and battered Iron Fist. Anxiously, she also eyes her close colleagues the Daughters of the Dragon. She hopes that help arrives soon for them too. On cue, Dr. Strange returns to Earth. Dr. Strange steps from a portal in space, and he goes to the two women. Both hurt heroines have strong pulses, and they even begin to stir under the doctor's touch.

With a touch, Clea mends Iron Fist's injuries partially and his costume completely. Noble Clea complains loudly, "Damn! How long will this attempted death of Iron Fist go on? Our recent adversaries are as persistent as Ur-Xanarrhian rats."

"Demons often are, as you know," the Sorcerer Supreme answers her, "I know only that the Defenders—old and new—are up to the task of saving the world once more. We must never fail."

"I hope that you can save and defend the world better than you have saved and defended yourselves, Strange," announces an approaching mechanical voice, "Fortunately, I arrive to advise you."

Strange and Clea look toward the Latverian Consulate. From that building, a menacing, metallic figure marches. Red emergency lights flicker off his steely armor. His metal boots audibly rap the ground like cavalry. Upon the wind, his green cape snaps and flutters as though he were a force of nature.

"Is that he?" Clea asks her beau.

"No. I do not even need the Eye of Agamotto to confirm that that is a robot duplicate. He would not deign to come out himself. Mephisto is not the only devil who epitomizes pride," Stephen assesses the approaching autocrat.

Ersatz Dr. Doom walks callously past Clea and wounded Iron Fist in the dust. His sensors scan Iron Fist. He will live. His sensors briefly scan Mephisto's escape point, and the android moves nonchalantly on.

The Doombot walks up to Dr. Strange. "I offer you the beneficence of Doom," speaks the mechanical monarch.

"Do you mean that the Latverians will assist the Upper East Side's residents?" the hero inquires.

"No, let the commoners fend for themselves," the machine actually expresses contempt, "I offer your party of extraordinary men assistance in my consulate. Such benefits me. And, it will benefit you as well."

"Think twice about visiting Doomsy's domicile," Spider-Man suddenly swings-in, "He has held the Fantastic Four captive in there—twice."

"I have also held Daredevil, Moon Knight, and Maximus the Mad there when it served my purpose," the Doombot adds.

"Dr. Doom has fought Namor the Sub-Mariner in there too," Dr. Strange one-ups the android.

"Black Cat and I have tussled with Doom's forces in there a bit back," Spider-Man one-ups Dr. Strange.

"Enough!" the Doombot scolds Spider-Man, "Surely, you cannot be serious. You mock Lord Doom."

"I am serious, and don't call me Shirley," Spider-Man thumbs his nose.

"Please," Dr. Strange intercedes, "All of my Defenders, I sense no danger from Dr. Doom at the moment. I am curious what he has to say and what his purpose here. Let us accept his hospitality."

Sans patience (or other virtues), Doom commands the two Sorcerers Supreme and the Amazing Spider-Man, "Each of you, pick-up your comrades littering the street and carry them toward the Latverian Consulate. You waste your master's time!"

Fists clenched, the Baron of Iron pivots on iron boots and goosesteps down the avenue. Around him, there is chaos and carnage, but he walks unheeding through it. While walking, Dr. Doom crassly lectures his company about the bombmaker's foolishness. An implosion would have worked much better than a great explosion, which damaged beautiful buildings. An implosion would have been a more appropriate strategy against Master Pandemonium. An implosion could have taken Pandemonium down to the Microverse where Psycho-Man and Baron Karza could have tormented him like devils. However, an imploding device was probably beyond the means of Spymaster's small mind.

Dr. Strange is shocked to hear Dr. Doom display knowledge of tonight's proceedings with Pandemonium and Spymaster. "How do you know?" Strange asks.

"I am Doom, and Doom knows all," replies Doom. Upon arrival, another Doombot lets the seven enter Latverian domain. Then, he shuts them in.


	15. Chap 15: Breakdown

**Chapter 15: Breakdown**

The Devil locks eyes with Martin Preston. Hung by chains, Preston pants in pain. Martin moans through quivering lips and weeps before Mephisto. Mephisto, without mercy, grins animalistic teeth inches from afflicted face. Master Pandemonium ponders the terrible teeth. Will they tear him apart like a wolf? Will they suck the life from him like a vampire? Will they torture him like a nettle?

Martin Preston does not need further torture. Four trammels hook the four stumps from which Mephisto once tore the limbs, and those four chains suspend Preston aching and bleeding above the sewer bilge beneath him. The spread-eagle sufferer swears that his body's severe pain should not be impossible, for no human—even a sinner—should need endure it. Master Pandemonium swears that the scarlet blood soaking his sleeves and sprinkling the sewer should be impossible, for he should have only ectoplasm in his veins from when Mephisto tore the soul from Preston's body. But, Mephisto's magic has made all horrible things possible for servant Pandemonium.

Pandemonium drops his chin. The Manhattan storm sewer flows under him. The smell would be overpowering if not for the sweat and bile already stewing in the agonized man's throat. The smell would be overwhelming if not for the smell of his own burnt flesh, burnt in the bomb blast. Master Pandemonium tries not to pass-out, but not from stoicism. Rather, he can only imagine the cruel means by which Mephisto would revive him.

Perhaps, Mephisto will use such cruel means to revive King Cobra lying limply in the sewer sludge. Cobra lies unconscious aways behind Mephisto. The Devil left the criminal's body once the evil spirit had no further need to possess it. Rats scurry over unmoving Cobra, and their limited cuteness comforts Pandemonium slightly. He watches them play capriciously.

"Look at me," the Prince of Evil commands.

Master Pandemonium knows to look at his master. He knows to quietly grit his teeth while Mephisto speaks. Silently, Martin Preston contemplates praying that Mephisto might leave him. The cursed cur considers calling upon God. Curiously, the Hell-Lord cannot read mortal thought. He has that limitation. So, the Devil can neither halt heartful prayer nor hinder human deliverance.

Perhaps, someone is listening. Mephisto announces, "I must leave the Mortal Plane momentarily."

"I am sorry to hear that, master," manages the mauled man.

"It is true," assures the Prince of Lies, "However, I do not completely leave you, Martin. I shall leave you with a mission. You will amuse me one last time. Then, I shall destroy you permanently like a trinket that no longer interests me."

"Really?" Pandemonium asks, "You would end my living perdition?"

"I could be lying," Mephisto admits, "I might keep you in existence so as to cast you into the Pit where the Slithe shall digest you for a thousand of years. I might visit you so as to laugh with joy at your misery."

Pandemonium gnashes his teeth, "Dare I say that you cannot experience joy, for joy is Heaven-sent. And, none is sent to you."

Mephisto knows goddam well that the eternally damned do not always fear further punishment. Therefore, for the moment, he does not punish Pandemonium further. Rather, Mephistio civilly replies, "No, I cannot truly experience a virtue such as joy. But, I am sloth personified, and your activities have given me a brief respite from my perpetual curse of boredom. Your undertakings will again."

"Oh, how's that?" the hooked and chained hostage chokes.

"You will attempt the death of Iron Fist one last time," announces the arch-fiend.

The puppet promises, "I shall succeed, sir. Iron Fist's two souls shall be my gift and tribute to you. Then, just perhaps, you can release me forever."

Mephisto promptly pats the puppet's pate and sadistically makes him bob in his fetters. The Devil laments, "Oh, Martin, you do not fare well when we part ways. Others have taken you from me: the demon Allatou, the god Mikaboshi, the witch Lore. But, they use and abuse you, so you ever pathetically crawl back to me, the Lord and Master of Master Pandemonium."

Mephisto pauses. He chortles, "Well, you would crawl if you had any f***ing limbs."

Both evil ones pause for a moment of silence. Only Martin's labored breathing and stifled moans interrupt the burbling of the storm sewer. In the runoff, catatonic Cobra begins to stir in the crap and the crud. The demon goes to him. He picks-up the snake by its neck. Mephisto shakes slobbering, slack Klaus Voorhees in Martin Preston's face.

Mephisto says, "Do you see this man? This human snake has recently been my vessel while I possessed him. He will be my vehicle again once he awakens. During his slumber, I have whispered certain edicts into his mind. He will execute my next plans, and you will attend him as you would me."

The tethered transgressor translates, "King Cobra is going to wake-up soon. I should follow his orders, from you, as I would yours. Yes, my lord. I shall use all of my powers to aid him."

"Except, you will not have the Rakasha at your disposal," Mephisto juts a finger, "Those poor souls have suffered enough under you. I shall keep them safe in Hell out of harm's way." Master Pandemonium can summon a demon horde. That is his greatest power of all of his powers.

"The Rakasha are my most powerful weapon," Master Pandemonium laments, "I am less likely to succeed sans them. Why would you take them from me, master?"

"I don't like fair play. F***ing people over amuses me," Mephisto shrugs, "And, to hell with you."

With an unholy flash, Mephisto disappears into a sulfurous cloud and a mass of hellfire. Impossibly, a conflagration burns the water and the cement of the sewer. It scourges Martin Preston's flesh and makes him howl horrifically. It melts the chains holding him over the ground. With a thump, he falls to the filthy silt.

Panting, Master Pandemonium stares at the ceiling in this dark, dank place. The helpless man wonders if the rats will soon come for his medium-rare flesh. He wonders if the putrid water in his open wounds will somehow give him a fatal infection. Martin Preston would pray for death, but he has no one to pray to.

King Cobra saves Master Pandemonium. The Serpent Society schlub suddenly stands-up and silently strides across the sewer. He grabs the basket case's collar and says in Dutch "We should go." Martin Preston does not speak Dutch, so Klaus Voorhees' words sound ominous to him. The snake swiftly slides the amputee away through the slick sewer scum until the tunnel forks west. Martin and Klaus are going west.

Above the drainage, Dr. Doom looks around the room. On Park Avenue, the Latverian Consulate plays host to six guests. One sits across from the Doombot. He is Iron Fist stoically bearing his combat wounds. To the left, Queen Clea sits in a leathered fauteuil chair. To the right, Dr. Strange sits studying Doom in this study room. Behind this circle, Spider-Man stands with arms crossed. He prefers to stand in case Dr. Doom rises to attack. Historically, Victor von Doom is a real bastard. But, this morn, the doctor does care for the hurt Daughters of the Dragon. Spider-Man will grant him that. Behind Spider-Man, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing recline on comfy couches while recovering their strength and wits.

Doom across from him, Danny Rand tries to project poise and authority. Rand is the Immortal Iron Fist, and he is a warrior who will not fear this man. CEO Rand is a magnate who will not kowtow to this monarch. Danny Rand is a survivor who will not be overwhelmed by Doom. Iron Fist fixes his gaze upon the iron face glaring back at him. The real man suspects that the actual Doom has the Doombot's same cold stare.

Dr. Doom breaks the silence, "Do you know? Luke Cage once sat in that very seat. I employed him [see _Luke Cage, Hero for Hire_ #8]. Cage had recently left prison, and he needed the work. Had you been with him at that time, I would have employed you."

"I doubt that," Iron Fist leans forward, "Luke and I called ourselves Heroes for Hire for a reason. We were heroes."

"You 'hero,' will serve the greater good of Doom soon. You will be my instrument just as Power Man once was, just as your companions Dr. Strange and Spider-Man have occasionally been," the awful aristocrat assures.

"You are one manipulative tin tyrant, Doomsy. I'll give you that," Spider-Man cuts in.

"We would like to hear what you have to say," Dr. Strange assuages the egotistical android, "Why did you generously open your doors to us after tonight's battle?"

Secretly, Strange hates stroking Doom's bloated hauteur. However, the mage knows the megalomaniac from past dealings. In particular, Dr. Doom and he once successfully faced-down Mephisto (see _Marvel Graphic Novel_ #49), whom Victor despises. The sage suspects that the supervillain might have information useful in the present crisis.

Dr. Doom declares, "I brought you bedraggled beings into my home for three reasons. The first is that you six are battle-worn, and Dr. Doom is honorable even to his lessers."

Behind his mask, Spider-Man rolls his eyes. "What is the next reason?" he asks the iron ass hosting 'inferiors'.

"The next reason is that Spymaster negligently damaged my consulate. I shall have revenge," states Dr. Doom.

"Well, you know, Spymaster couldn't be any deader," Colleen Wing calls from a couch.

"Silence, woman!" sounds Doom, "Tell Doom something that he does not know! I saw Spymaster's bisected body as well as anyone when I retrieved you. I require no pound of flesh from his corpse. Rather, I shall revenge upon Master Pandemonium who ignited Spymaster to set-off a bomb that damaged my property."

"Are you sure that Master Pandemonium does not suffer enough already? After all, Mephisto took him," Clea asks. The Devil is a mean guy.

"No, for this affront, Pandemonium must at least suffer another defeat at the hands of so-called 'heroes'. You heroes will find him, stop him, defeat him, punish him, and humiliate him. So proclaims Doom," the Doombot toasts this edict with a golden chalice. For pompous punctuation, the robot swigs fine wine.

Strange wonders, "How do you know so much about Spymaster's plans and Pandemonium's activities?"

The answer should be obvious. "Dr. Doom knows all," elucidates the arrogant monarch, "Latverian intelligence is the finest in the world, and my network informs me comprehensively. Daily, I know of all activities that might interest the Lord of Latveria. I shall share some Latverian intelligence with the ignorant, you six. Then, you can address Master Pandemonium's mischief and, perhaps, Mephisto's as well."

Unexpectedly, Dr. Strange levitates from his seat. The Master of the Mystic Arts tires a little of the Iron Baron's big mouth. Strange's Cloak of Levitation spreads like raptor wings, and he crosses his legs like a pandit. The Supreme looks down on Doom. The Doombot studies the display of power, both literal power and social. Apparently, the Master of the Mystic Arts will not be casually patronized.

Dr. Strange speaks, "How specifically would you have your noble guests help you, Victor?"

"You will be my soldiers," states dictator Doom, "I detected Mephisto in that gaudy giant snake, that monster unleashed, that took Pandemonium through portal to beneath Park Avenue. I saw the devil, and I would have revenge."

"The Eye of Agamotto revealed the Dark One as well. I saw Mephisto's presence, and I can extrapolate where the Lord of the Lower Depths went. Tell Strange something that he does not know," Dr. Strange one-ups Doom.

"What would you have us specifically do, Victor?" Clea jumps in, "Mephisto cannot be slain, and he can never be completely defeated. If evil exists, the Evil One does too."

"What setback for Nick Scratch do you seek?" Stephen elicits.

Dr. Doom stands. Dr. Strange is still above him. The rex replies, "For one thing, Mephisto will not have Iron Fist sacrificed to him. He will not gain power this way."

"I appreciate it," says Danny.

"Mephisto will not claim Danny Rand as he once did Luke Cage," Doom continues. In this universe, Mephisto (seemingly) killed Power Man during Secret Wars II. Iron Fist witnessed the bitter death.

The death replays in Iron Fist's mind. In a folly between gods, Mephisto murdered Power Man before the Beyonder and Iron Fist. Like a warrior, the Immortal swallows his pain and fury. Danny simply acknowledges, "Luke's death was very difficult."

"I said that Mephisto claimed Cage, not that he killed him," Dr. Doom clarifies, "Luke Cage is not dead." Dr. Doom shocks the room.

Five jaws drop. Dr. Strange maintains his composure, "What do you mean? I would have known if he yet lives. The Orb of Agamotto would have shown me at some point. Or, some cosmic force would have informed me."

"Strange, I venture where angels fear to tread. I congress with dark forces that no hero would," Dr. Doom postures, "By the unnamable, I swear. Luke Cage is not dead."

"Where is he?" Iron Fist stands up and stares the automaton eye-to-eye.

"I shall share that information as I shall share information on Master Pandemonium," Dr. Doom instructs, "You may quest for your colleague after you stifle the machinations of Mephistopheles for me."

"What do you need?" Iron Fist asks. Wisely, he is unsure that he does not deal with a devil.

Dr. Doom communicates what he knows. After a while, the six superheroes leave the Latverian Consulate. It is the wee hours on Park Avenue. Nightwing Restorations and Spider-Man say that they must get home to get some rest. Dr. Strange and Clea say that, as this campaign's generals, they have preparations to make. Through a magic portal, they retire to Greenwich Village.

Iron Fist sees Joy Meachum waiting for him on the sidewalk. He tells her that she should not wait outside in Manhattan in the middle of the night. There are dangerous people about. In reply, Joy comments that she notices her penthouse is now trashed. However, CEO Meachum has a sense of humor, and she has money. Meachum and Rand catch a cab over to their corporate office where they keep (separate) accommodations. On the way, Joy and Danny chat about their nights. Iron Fist tells his tale. Joy Meachum recounts her evening. She attended an event for the Kindly Hand Charity Hospital. Afterward, Colleen Wing took Joy's limo to Meachum's Park Avenue residence, and the potential abductee stayed safely at Wing's Inwood home. While there, Joy called Martina Tereshkova to check-in, but the security head must be fast asleep. Joy could not raise her.


	16. Chap 16: I'm Leaving

**Chapter 16: I'm Leaving**

"I have never met you before in my life!" Adrian Toomes gets into Klaus Voorhees' face.

Voorhees leans on in, "Come with me if you want to live. Or, don't. I don't give a f**k. We're both bad guys who deserve to swing by the gallows—or Spider-Man's web."

"Are you trying to be cute?" Adrian "Vulture" Toomes responds.

"F**k no! If I had wanted to be cute, Cobra and Vulture could have met at the Bronx Zoo," Klaus "King Cobra" Voorhees points north.

Most of the Bronx lies to the north of the two toughs. To the south, the East River flows by Barretto Point. They are in the Bronx inside a crumbling industrial building. A collapsed wall provides the view to the south and some light. Other sunlight struggles through filthy windows above. From overhead, asbestos dust trickles down and hangs in the humid air. There are rusty supports and peeling plaster all around. The building looks nearly as tough as the hardened tough guys standing in it. Toomes and Voorhees both have the same shorn scalps, atrabilious eyes, scowling mouths, tight fists, and squared shoulders. They look like men looking for a fight. They look like savages who ravage and steal. They look like animals.

Cobra hisses, "I don't have all day, Adrian. Are you leaving with me or not? We have flights to catch."

"I ain't got no flight to catch," Vulture shakes his costume's wings. It is an offensive display in Cobra's face.

Cobra is unimpressed, "Why in the hell would you wear that costume to this meeting? I told you on the phone that we three are escaping New York under the radar."

Snake is smartly incognito in public. On this June day, he wears a nice purple polo, snakeskin belt, green slacks, and plain juttis. He should have no problem sashaying through airport security.

"I don't need to flee New York," Vulture tells Cobra, "I am innocent of attacking the Upper East Side. The pigs—powered or otherwise—pursue the wrong perp."

"Yeah well, life isn't always fair," one deviant educates another, "The heat is on us, my criminal colleague. Manhattan's fuzz and superfriends think that we caused great chaos in and around the Lancashire co-op on Park Avenue. For instance, they think that you trashed some rich bitch's penthouse and then fought Spider-Man across the sky. Later, you were reported hanging around Grant's Tomb. They want to cage themselves a Vulture, man."

"The fight across the sky doesn't bother me," Adrian elocutes, "I am proud whenever any Vulture or Vulturion gives the Webhead a beating, for any successor emulates and honors me, one of Spider-Man's oldest enemies. Furthermore, I have no problem with any public chaos caused by even an imposter. Let Fun City forever fear the Vulture. He and his threat will ever remain."

Klaus Voorhees is not a merciful or considerate man. If Vulture wishes, the Sinister One can stay and suffer the consequences of staying.

However, Cobra has commands from the Serpent himself. Mephisto told Cobra to carry certain criminals into the West. In Vulture's case, he is supposed to go to Denver—for Satan knows what reason. Thus, out of fear, not love, Voorhees tries one more time to convince Vulture to fly right.

Cobra's finger points through the open wall, "Do you see that island out there in the East River?"

Vulture scoffs, "Yeah, that is Ryker's Island. We both know it pretty f***ing well."

"Well, Bullet is not getting to leave Ryker's Island today. I do not have a plane ticket for him. Instead, he gets to rot in the prison infirmary before the system passes judgement," Klaus explains.

Adrian spits on soil, "So f***ing what? I don't know Bullet any more than I know you. I have never worked with either of you. And, I don't trust or care about either of youse f***ing guys."

Keeping composed, Cobra continues, "Yeah well, Buck 'Bullet' Cashman is near seven-foot and four hundred f***ing pounds. By nature and fate, he must suffer, for there's no f***ing way that he's sneaking on a plane this afternoon. You don't have to go through what he's gonna. Ryker's staff are trying to get him to rat (on us) and prison rats trying to f***ing eat him. You should accept your plane ticket and have a nice f***ing flight to Denver International." Klaus thrusts the envelope into Adrian's mug.

Vulture impressively swift slap bats the papers from Cobra's nimble hand. "Are you kidding me? Are you stupid?" Toomes asks Voorhees, "Denver has a Spider-Woman. Her name's Arachne. Plus, Denver is 1600-miles from home where I have my ill-gotten gains, evil associates, and nasty reputation. I ain't going."

"Fine," Cobra does not ultimately give a s**t, "I don't ultimately give a s**t. I'll leave you the ticket. You can fly slightly south past Ryker's to La Guardia. Or, you can fly slightly east of here to the Vernon C. Bain detention center. Or, you can go north to Alaska. You can go straight to Hell. I don't care."

From the shadows, Dr. Melinda Brewer brings back the batted envelope. She places it quietly in Vulture's hand, and she keeps walking toward Barretto Street. A dirty bird, old Adrian watches her hips and hind-end leave.

"Who's she? I saw her sitting in the shadows while we talked," Vulture queries Cobra.

"She is good to know," Cobra comments, "That woman is Dr. Melinda Brewer. She is an underground surgeon operating out of the Bronx, and she does miracles for miscreants from maggia goons to costumed vigilantes. That illicit angel even brought back Pavane from the brink of death after el Aguila fried her."

"Pavane died anyway. Didn't she?" Vulture asks.

"Yeah. Colleen Wing got her? Scarecrow got her? I don't know the exact story," Klaus rubs his chin.

"I don't always know the full story either," Adrian admits, "However, I would appreciate knowing more about your current plans. After all, knowledge is power, and a wanted, desperate man always wants for more knowledge and power." Sometimes, scientist Adrian Toomes speaks like the educated class, despite being a lowlife.

Veteran Voorhees is not going to give wily Toomes too much power. Cobra is going to keep some information safely to himself so that Vulture lacks the power to blab and betray. However, he is willing to share some harmless info as a professional courtesy.

Klaus conjectures, "I suppose that you want to know the fates of the other Park Avenue raiders."

"Yeah, please tell me something," Adrian appeals, "You don't have to spill your guts."

"Maybe not. But, Eel has to spill his. He is being dissected at the city morgue. He is dead and does not need a plane ticket," Voorhees explains.

"All three Eels have the worst luck," Vulture comments on the three characters made carrion.

Cobra walks toward the outside and beckons Vulture to join him. Within, Cobra recollects the murder that he committed while Mephisto's possessed puppet. A woman was found dead in Manhattan's Manhattan Valley neighborhood, and victim Martina Tereshkova has some very, very powerful friends.

Cobra comments, "Like any Eel, I do not always have the best luck either, and that is part of why I must get the f*** out of Dodge in that stolen car."

The Serpent Society alum indicates his ride at the curb. Apparently, Cobra could not find an '80s muscle car named after himself, so he stole an auto named after Madame Hydra, apt for "getting out of Dodge". Vulture sees comely Melinda in the passenger seat. She has a cooler at her lovely feet. And, the old outlaw wonders what the shady surgeon has in there. Before his eyes, she opens the igloo and takes out—a beer. Opening the suds, she sips. Brewer tosses a brew to Klaus too. Apparently, the dual degenerates plan to drink and drive.

"You shouldn't drink and drive," the Vulture, symbol of carnage and death, mentions.

"I'll just go limp in a crash," Cobra quips, "Besides, at this hour, I-278 should not be too crowded and the FDR should not be too crazy."

"That makes sense," Adrian Toomes is neither a considerate nor compassionate man. Ultimately, he does not give a crap whether freeway cars crash and drivers die.

Then, Vulture realizes, "Say, you are not taking the FDR to La Guardia from here. It doesn't go that way. Where are you flying out of?"

"Your mutha's ass," Cobra cheekily retorts.

Klaus follows nicely, "If you don't mind, I shall keep that information confidential. However, I figured that Cobra and Vulture should not be seen departing from the same airport. That way, homeland security does not catch everyone."

"Is anyone else escaping with you?" Vulture pursues, " _The Daily Bugle_ reported that Nightshade and some other guy were at the scene. Apparently, Nightshade committed terrorist acts, being an infamous terrorist."

"The other guy is named Beliar," Cobra informs, "Eel blew-up Nightshade and him. They are both dead—for all that you know."

"For all I know," Vulture repeats with a sneer. He eyes the medical miracleworker Melinda in the automobile. He wonders.

Klaus Voorhees is done talking. He extends a hand to his evil associate, "It was good to meet you, Vulture. Good luck, Toomes."

Cobra screeches the tires with Dr. Melinda Brewer tagging along southward from the Bronx. Vulture shoots himself straight up. The old man is not stupid. He knows that troublemakers—from police helicopters to superheroes—can see him in the early afternoon sun and sky. But, the old gorgon wants to feel as young as Icarus for a moment. After some flight and freedom, the low creature will descend upon the Upper West Side where the Vulture will once again brood upon nefarious plots in his usual solitude.

Slightly south, Buck Cashman's chin drops a bit. Bullet tries to be brave. But, Ryker's is a depressing place. And, the infirmary simply makes his sad situation even worse. After Iron Fist and Eel, his joints hurt. His bones hurt. His ego is bruised, and he does not feel invincible. Furthermore, he must keep all of his pain to himself—lest he die of embarrassment. Or, otherwise, fellow inmates will smell and see weakness. Then, they will pounce on prey. Old Daredevil foe Bullet has noticed other old Daredevil "rogues" in Ryker's. They all pretty much share a wing.

Even injured, Bullet figures that he can handle pathetic Joe the Caviar Killer or crazy Rotgut. Aged hooligans Sad Sam Simms and Ape Horgan (see _Daredevil_ #3) do not scare him. But, the middle-aged Abner Jonas is a small concern. Back in the day, they called him the Organizer, and Jonas is always huddling with flunkies such as Grotto, Baby Elmo, Stymie, Scope, Shades McGraw, and Skeeter Pretzel. Those guys are all wannabe killers. Even worse than Jonas, Michael Reese is a convicted rapist built like the Gladiator, and he hangs-out with these two nut-cases called the Wildboys, Jet and Spit (former Bullet associates). Those three have passed by the infirmary and said some s**t. Even worse than Reese, Gael wanders the corridors when the guards let him out of his cage. Gael is in about the same line of work as Bullet. He is a lethal operative for the IRA. Gael hates the CIA and the Kingpin, so he hates Bullet lying, lame, on the bed. Passing by, the Freddy Krueger look-a-like (he was once severely burned) always flashes a shiv and a smile, and Bullet does his best to stare him down. Even scarier than Gael, Mr. Fear recently killed former acquaintance Ammo who would have protected Bullet. But, Larry Cranston is in the hole now. Thankfully, Micah Synn is dead. Cashman hears that he was really king of this freakin' jungle.

Thankfully, Buck Cashman can appreciate the food in front of him. For prison food, it is not bad, and Buck has had a quiet lunch. And, thankfully, Bullet knows that his son Lance and wife Gloria might get to visit him soon. Their love provides him strength as he heals. Their love has often provided him a haven as the mercenary has done his grim professional work.

On infirmary duty, Frank Farnum comes for Bullet's tray. With a twinkle in his eye, the honor inmate asks, "Are you all done, Buck?"

"Yeah, take the tray," Buck waves the okay repast away. Then, his big hand rubs his heavy chest which aches with some heartbreak—but also some costochondritis or pneumonia (this June day) or something.

Farnum places the plate and utensils on the food cart. He dumps an apple core and bread crumbs into the cart's garbage. Turning, he comments, "Used food. Kind of like you, you piece of s**t."

Snarling, insulted Bullet sits-up to shout something back. Startling, he realizes that he cannot breathe. Wheezing, he tries rising. Spit dribbles. Lungs lock. Heart gives out. In seconds, Buck Cashman dies.

Bullet's bowels empty used food upon the bed. Frank Farnum makes funny, "It looks a like a piece of s**t will be found in a puddle of s**t. And, that poison will never be found at all. Nightshade knows what she is doing, unlike you. You shouldn't have falsely implicated her in a terrorist act. Have a nice funeral with family."

Frank Farnum leaves the lifeless mass murderer. Even scarier than Mr. Fear in solitary, the Masked Marauder sometimes marauds while wearing no mask at all. Nightshade promised him cash and future considerations. Departing, the Masked Marauder tells other infirmary patients Vinnie Patilio, Arnold Paffenroth, and Mason Hollis that they did not see anything. Small-timers Leap-Frog, Tatterdemalion, and Crime-Wave get beat-up a lot, and they know the rules.

A piece southwest of Ryker's, Vulture flies peacefully over the American Museum of Natural History. The Upper West Side raises his spirits on a sunny summer day. From on high, Vulture sees the Hudson ahead sparkling in the solar rays. The feathered felon flits toward the regal water so that he might dally over it before retiring. Soon, Toomes must conceal himself and rest before his usual midnight activities.

At the museum, a heroic woman (of sorts) pauses on the entry steps. From behind shades, she spots Vulture quickly crossing the sky. The scientist is very observant; she even seems to sense his evil presence. Of course, she is a little evil herself. Perhaps, that is why a demonic horde recently gave her an ass-whupping, to use the cowboy vernacular. The anti-hero grins the bruised lips on her bruised face.

Dr. Jaime Slade enters the American Museum of Natural History, where she sometimes works. She wonders if Hawkeye and Mockingbird will be here to greet her. Pessimistically, the sore sinner wonders if they will ambush her and rough her up. The three fought here once (see _Hawkeye & Mockingbird _#4). But, the two Avengers are not there.

Instead, colleague Richard Treyman accosts Jaime on her way to the archaeology department. Concerned, he asks about her current blemishes. Giggling, Slade removes the dark glasses from her black eye. She assures Dr. Treyman that there are threats not only in Montana but in Manhattan as well. For example, Vulture just flew overhead outside. Dick Treyman is good friends with Vincent Stegron: Stegron, the Dinosaur Man. So, he sure hopes that nothing offbeat or weird is about to happen in Natural History.

Cross-dressing is not weird in New York City. Therefore, David Cannon does not stick-out shopping for women's wear in Midtown, a wee south of the museum. He does draw attention though. The Danly's saleslady will gladly show him a Van Dyne dress and matching purse. Dave is glad to shop at Danly's. The Human Top once robbed this place and fought Giant-Man and the winsome Wasp here (see _Tales to Astonish_ #50). In Cannon's mind, that encounter is when Janet and he first met. Good times. The saleslady brings the outfit. Whirlwind is happy.

East of Danly's, the City Morgue is not a happy place at 1st and 30th. It is an often somber and sometimes grim place. In fact, contented Klaus and Melinda speed right past it on the FDR. They do not know what occurs there currently, and they probably would not want to know.

Well, okay, any medical doctor—such as Dr. Brewer—might find resurrection fascinating. But, she still might find any robbing the dead of their rest and dignity quite sordid and disturbing.

Beneath the 1st Ave address, no one stirs in Exam Room A1—except Brother Zed. Zed is a trusted parolee who has not been in trouble since crossing Daredevil many years ago (see _Daredevil_ #130). Zed is an experienced pathologist's assistant thanks to the city giving an ex-con a second chance. His good reputation got coroner Helen Carroway to leave the room today. She trusts him to clean-up the room and to store the autopsied body.

Nathan Lemon lies deceased before Zedekiah Fine. Dr. Carroway has done her examination. SHIELD has taken pictures and fingerprints of the body. No relatives have claimed Lemon, and former employers Taskmaster and Justin Hammer could not be reached. Once Zed is done, Nathan "Spymaster" Lemon should be all set for his scheduled cremation tomorrow. But, Brother Zed is not going to send Spymaster to cremation. He is going to prepare him for something else. A con artist, Zed has always been sneaky. A racketeer, he pretended to be a powerful voodoo houngan to exploit those faithful willing to fund a false priest, although he knew no actual necromancy. Calypso does though. She is no charlatan. She is real power. And, she is arriving anon.

Calypso painted the symbol upon Lemon's chest that protected Spymaster in Pandemonium's presence. That symbol also marked her property, and she is drawn to it now. Whether she comes from Hell or Hell's Kitchen, the witch arrives from the shadows of the locked room. Calypso greets Zed, who is also hers. She tells her servant to fetch the cadaver wire from the shelf. She wants Nathan's severed segments reattached to each other. Soon, she will command deceased Spymaster to rise. And, obscenely, he will obey.

Offended, Iron Fist addresses Dr. Strange, "Damn you, Stephen! You should have told me that Luke yet lives!"

Greenwich Village sits outside the Bleecker Street window far south of 30th Street. At the glass, Dr. Strange gathers his thoughts while watching the neighborhood. Naturally, Stephen understands Danny's unease. No one expects the dead to return one day (especially after witnessing the death). So, Iron Fist must now adjust his thoughts.

The Sorcerer Supreme bows his head and turns. He walks to Danny and places both hands on his shoulders. "My friend, I do not know where Luke Cage is," the Defenders' leader admits.

"How? You are the Sorcerer Supreme," Iron Fist steps back.

Strange sighs, "I have looked, for I have sensed that Luke is not truly dead. As mentioned, I cannot find Power Man even with the Orb of Agamotto. Despite my solicitation, even Uatu, the Living Tribunal, and Eternity himself have not revealed his fate to me."

"What about the dark forces that Doom mentioned?" Iron Fist asks, "Mephisto killed Luke. It is entirely possible that the bastard keeps him in Hell as he did Mockingbird and Hellcat. It is possible that a 'dark force' holds Luke some other Hell. In any case, we need to rescue him."

"I probed Mephisto's realm, and I simply asked Daimon Hellstrom. And, I surveyed realms from Satannish's Hell to Pluto's Hades. Luke Cage is not in them," Stephen shakes his head, "And, Danny, there are some abysses into which no human mind should look, not even mine. Dr. Doom is foolish enough to peer again and again, and he pays dearly again-and-again, sometimes with a mere facial scar, sometimes even with his life."

Iron Fist shakes his head too. He is frustrated. But, any warrior is a stoic, so Fist stoically calms himself. The stoic chuckles and jokes, "Stephen, you are one useless prophet. You can't save my double's life in Montana. And, you can't find my buddy Luke Cage in the entire Ominverse."

Proud Dr. Strange chuckles too, "Well, we shall have surer success today, for we have made good plans."

"True," states Danny, "Paladin waits at the airport from which Cobra intends to flee. The Hero for Hire will capture him for the bounty. Before collecting, Paladin will summon you to check the snake for residual magic that Mephisto might have left after possessing him."

"Information is power," states Stephen, "And, Cobra's person might have some interesting and useful dirt."

Iron Fist contributes, "I would have gone after Cobra myself; however, I wanted to have this conversation with you."

"I am glad that we chatted," Dr. Strange acknowledges, "Besides Paladin, The Daughters of the Dragon and Clea are presently in the field. Our ally Spider-Man is out there too if needed."

Out there a little east, Klaus Voorhees parks his muscle car on Bowery Street. Melinda Brewer pads to a tobacco shop before them. Klaus pops the trunk. Inside, there are three briefcases and a large suitcase. He grabs two briefcases. Incognito Cobra walks toward the Fox's secreted den. Before invading Park Avenue, Mr. Beliar and his troops conspired in the abandoned bunker beneath this Bowery shop.

Below the building, three doctors sit on a large chesterfield sofa beside an antique brass floorlamp. Surgeon Angeline Kutter sits to the left of a male colleague.

"Surgeon General," Cobra calls her by codename, "Please accept this briefcase of cash for your work stabilizing and repairing Master Pandemonium. He is alive because of you."

The former Daredevil foe talks tall, "Thank you. I do good work. I saved a French-fried Pavane once you know."

"Yes, we bad guys have all heard," Cobra commends.

Without further ado, Surgeon General marches into the streets, and the killer Kutter disappears into the New York crowds.

"Dr. Brewer," Cobra calls Melinda by title, "Please accept this briefcase of cash for your plastic surgery on Master Pandemonium after the bomb blast. He is restored because of you."

"Thank you. I repaired the Punisher's mauled face once," recalls reconstructive doctor Brewer, "Although, I suppose that I should not brag about that to you."

"I turn my other cheek that you gave Punisher a new cheek," Cobra cracks congenially, "In fact, I like you so much that you get this Metrocard for the subway back to the Bronx."

"Thank you for the considerate card then," Melinda examines her boon.

Cobra tells, "I stole it. I mugged some Upper East Side commuter early one morn the other day. Master Pandemonium and I had just left a storm sewer. The unlucky commuter was underground too to catch her train. I smacked her around for some spending money and the subway card."

"Dr. Marla Madison-Jameson," Melinda reads the signature, "I suppose that I can pass for her."

Happily, Dr. Brewer departs to catch her own train, and the mob surgeon disappears into the underground.

"Dr. Strange," Cobra calls his final guest by name, "Please accept. . . . ."


	17. Chap 17: On a Jet Plane

**Chapters 17: On a Jet Plane**

"Dr. Strange," Cobra addresses his final guest, "Please accept the keys and full access to this clandestine hideout. You will find that the Fox, master thief and espionage agent, has this place well supplied with booty and means of mass destruction. He has all kinds of interesting s**t lying around.

"Thank you for enhancing Master Pandemonium. He will soon praise your name when he kills his enemies with the lethal technology that you installed into him. I am sure that he feels reborn."

Dr. _Carlo_ Strange replies, "Thank you. The original Dr. Strange is glad to be back in the game. Many years ago, I had the whole world's attention when I brought Iron Man and the whole world to their knees [see _Tales of Suspense_ #41]. Mere weeks later, another Dr. Strange, Stephen Strange, appeared on the scene. And, Carlo Strange has been forgotten ever since. No more. I have epic plans to conquer the entire Earth."

Klaus Voorhees concedes, "Well, you are a mad scientist, so go nuts." Cobra leaves wild-haired, wild-eyed Carlo Strange to it.

Klaus Voorhees guns his V10 across the lower tip of Manhattan. He needs to hit the Holland Tunnel to New Jersey. Newark Liberty Airport represents his freedom. Passing Greenwich Village, the middle-aged outlaw thinks to find some folk music on the radio. A trio sings mellifluously about leaving on a jet plane. Klaus relaxes and smirks.

Ahead, Cheshire grins. The Nightshade henchman stands at Freeman Plaza West. And, Freeman Plaza West is the entrance to the Holland Tunnel to New Jersey. In the small plaza park, Cheshire sits invisible, as is his ability. An advanced handheld device utterly hides him from the naked eye. The thug watches his smartphone's satellite feed display Cobra's approach. Nightshade and he have been tracking the car since it left the Bronx. Nightshade and he have the intelligence capabilities to know King Cobra's every move.

"Cobra's coming, baby," Cheshire radios Nighshade in the nearby toll plaza, "Bullet should be dead. Mr. Beliar and Spymaster are dead. Once Cobra's dead, we only have to kill Vulture, wherever he's roosting."

"Dominique is dead," adds Nightshade.

"Who the f**k is that?" Cheshire inquires.

"The toll booth worker whom I killed and replaced," the evil mastermind replies, "I hold the Devil ultimately responsible for her death. Those five bozos should have never implicated me in their crime. Now, I have to put the heat on them because they brought the heat on me."

"A hellfire missile ought to do the trick," Cheshire notes, "I just feel sorry for the collaterals around Cobra when we crisp him."

"Their deaths cannot be avoided," the insane illuminato figures, "We would never be able to hit the human serpent with even a barrage of bullets. He is famous for dodging such attacks. We need to incinerate an area and everyone in it. That is the safer, surer plan."

"Sure, sure," the goon gets past his reservations, "I love the smell of napalm in the afternoon. It smells like—victory,"

Nightshade does not bother correcting the idiot about the movie's line or the missile's explosive. She has a bigger snakehead to fry. However, someone else (on the other hand) is willing to straighten-out Nightshade's henchman.

Cheshire feels a tap on his shoulder. He startles, for he is invisible. "What the-?!" he exclaims.

Colleen Wing tugs him to face her, his face still invisible. "You know," she advises, "You are camouflaged well. Tis true. But, let me give you a heads-up warrior-to-warrior. I can still hear you."

One jab chips Cheshire's noted grin and coldcocks him to the ground. His handheld flops from his slack hand. And, he appears manifestly defeated.

Nightshade spies her target approaching. The laser rangefinder has a great scope, and the scope displays Cobra's car nigh. With ragged breath, Nightshade laserpaints the car so that the hellfire will track it into the tunnel. Gleefully, the madwoman imagines the tumult in the Holland Tunnel when the payload hits. Giddily, she imagines claiming credit after the atrocious event. The Upper East Side incident was not her. But, New York, and America, and the world will know that this upheaval was. After the detonation, Tilda will call BNBC on Dominique's phone; then, the feds can hound her for something that she actually did. Nightshade is a little touched in the head.

A bionic fist crashes through the booth's bulletproof glass. For a second, Nightshade sees Misty Knight. Then, Misty grabs Tilda's hair and smashes her forward (into the glass) one, two, three times. Totaled Nightshade falls to the floor unconscious.

Misty Knight turns to face the car that has just pulled-up. Her eyebrows rise surprised. From the driver's seat, slack-jawed Klaus Voorhees gawks back. Cobra wonders, "Who is this enhanced chick? And, is she a superhero?" Cobra has had few—if any—dealings with her, though her face looks familiar.

Misty knows exactly who Cobra is. And, it has been the Heroes for Hire's plan to let him through. No one wants a calamitous battle in the crowded Holland Tunnel. Knight will send him to Paladin.

Misty simply says "Go on through. No toll." The sports car swiftly slithers into the offered escape route.

"But, don't drink and drive!" the ex-cop yells at the supervillain. She spotted Klaus and Melinda's empties.

Meanwhile in New Jersey. . . . . "Might as well go for a soda," Master Pandemonium opens the mini-fridge.

Master Pandemonium has a nice room here at the Liberty Science Center in Jersey City, NJ. Dr. Carlo Strange has fellow mad scientists who work here, and they have provided the Master with a futon and a television. On the TV, an old Martin Preston movie plays, and Mr. Preston admires himself. This particular one is a historical drama in which Preston plays Pres. James Polk and forgotten Vince Sterling plays Vice President George Dallas. Vince Sterling would go on to be obscure Daredevil foe Brother Brimstone. Martin would, of course, go on to be the damned Master Pandemonium. The film is called Manifest Destiny.

Master Pandemonium takes a sip of soda; then, he puts down the aluminum can. His calescent eyes look over his new mechanical limbs. The metal arms belonged to Steel Collar, a former Daredevil and Iron Fist foe who died. The cyborg exploded himself right here at the science center, and the AIM agents covertly working here saved the spewed parts. Dr. Carlo Strange used them to rebuild Master Pandemonium after Spymaster exploded him.

Gathering himself, the powerful warlock telepathically scans the ten-mile vicinity. Unfortunately, Paladin is a Marvel Knight whom Pandemonium smells. Clenching his iron fists, the cursed criminal prepares to provide friend Cobra safe passage. Becoming as a miasma, the sinister sorcerer seeps out an open window into the stagnant summer smog over northern New Jersey. He flies like a shade toward Newark.

Nine miles away, Paladin notes that parking garages always have a certain stench to them. The car exhaust and dumped litter just add-up to a certain fetor, especially on a hot, humid day. The foppish "hero" does not care for it, and he finds the garbage and gasoline smell quite ghastly. He hopes that Cobra arrives soon so that Paladin can defeat and capture him. In a fight, Cobra should be somewhere between a champ and a chump. On one hand, Cobra started his career against the Mighty Thor. On the other, he has become a silly sort since.

Right on time, a certain muscle car arrives, and Paladin notices who's driving. Curiously, Klaus Voorhees keeps driving past the main parking area, and he heads for an upper deck with fewer cars around. Paladin does not mind. A less-occupied space is better for a battle. Like a gazelle, Paladin lopes after the auto. His cape even flamboyantly flutters behind him.

On the third level, Paladin finds Klaus Voorhees unpacking the trunk. Seemingly with the element of surprise, the bounty hunter draws and fires his stun gun. To his surprise, Cobra swivels his hips impossibly quickly, and the static bolt blows-out a tail-light instead.

Cobra turns, "Do you mind? Your electro-gun could have hit the f***ing gas tank."

Paladin asks coolly, "How did you know that I was there?"

"My passenger warned me," Klaus casually removes his bags from the back.

"You don't have a passenger," Paladin informs Cobra, "You . . . Oh wait!"

Voorhees does indeed have someone riding shotgun. Although, a person cannot get a clear look at him. Paladin keeps his composure. Cocksure, the hunter stalks forward.

Confident Cobra queries, "Say boy, do you remember the last time that we fought?"

"Yeah [see _Daredevil_ #154]."

"You were unimpressive then too," the villain saunters away with his back turned.

The proud Paladin isn't having it, "Turn around! I am collecting your bounty, blackguard!" Behind him, the gentleman hero hears the passenger disembark the car with a stomping, thunderous step. Klaus' confederate could be a problem.

Cobra simply ignores Paladin, "I have a flight to catch." He walks toward the exit. Paladin lifts one foot to pursue. . . . .

Then, a fireball consumes the knight like dragon's breath. Reflexively, Paladin puts his protective gauntlets before his exposed lower face. His dandy cape incinerates, and his infrangible armor singes. The blast blows him back over the ground. And, everything goes black.

However, Paladin is not unconscious. Rather, his unseen opponent has cast an unearthly darkness over the entire area. Automatically, Paladin activates the infrared in his goggles, but they are useless. He is blind as he hears heavy footsteps advancing ominously.

In the dark, Master Pandemonium walks up to Paladin. The wizard blasts eldritch energy through the warrior's body. His armor will not protect him from Pandemonium. Paladin gasps and falls stunned. Using his own armor, Pandemonium morphs one cybernetic limb into a whip. Steel Collar had an ex-associate called Technospike who could do this. In fact, Paladin met him once (see _Silver Sable and the Wild Pack_ #25). Like Technospike, Pandemonium winds and whirs the whip through the air in preparation for a terrible lash. Paladin can hear the wind-up. He makes evasive motions. But, the awful appendage pierces his breastplate anyway. It stabs him through the pec. Then, it electrocutes him near to death. The hubristic hero screams and moans. Smiling in the gloom, the technomancer feels his new power.

Elsewhere nearby. "Have a nice trip, Mr. Duende. Enjoy Las Vegas," the counter attendant tells Klaus Voorhees.

"Thank you, I always enjoy time in New York," replies the wigged supervillain wearing a fake mustache. Voorhees' name and face must not be recognized at the airport. Dick Duende heads for the departure gate. Behind him, the counter attendant has a laugh at the name. "Duende" is Spanish an evil, mischievous spirit, and the woman certainly hopes that Dick is not that.

Flaccid, Paladin hangs in Pandemonium's chokehold. The dastardly warlock tosses him aside and restores the parking garage's usual light. The champion has blood on his face and looks a big disgrace. Pandemonium has whupped his ass all over the place. Feeling his mojo, Master Pandemonium imagines which heroes he will face and whip next. He wonders who they might be. Iron Fist should surely be one.

Pandemonium need not daydream long. Suddenly, a blazing magic portal appears before him. Clea and Spider-Man step from it. They look ready to fight. Then, another magic portal unexpectedly illuminates the entire area. Dr. Strange and Iron Fist step from that one. They look ready to finish matters. The cyborg sorcerer scans his opponents. With a smirk, the bad man boldly visualizes killing two sorcerers supreme and a legend before slaying the Dragon.

A wee west, the jet plane leaves for Las Vegas. A briefcase of cash sits securely at Cobra's feet instead of in the overhead bin. Beneath Cobra, a suitcase with a costume sits in the belly of the jet. Beside him, Dick Duende notices that his seatmate reads a western.

"That is a good read," Duende comments, "I have always liked Walter Krantz's work."

"Amen. I like it too," the neighbor makes eye contact.

"Dick Duende," Cobra introduces himself.

"Hamilton Slade," the Phantom Rider shakes with a firm grip. The plane goes into the west.


	18. Chap 18: The Battle of Newark

**Chapter 18: The Battle of Newark**

Master Pandemonium beholds the four fools around him. Within, he fools himself, "They are right where I want them."

Spider-Man moves out-of-sight instantly. Pandemonium cannot track him, but he can deduce that the Webslinger goes to the wounded Paladin. Glancing right, the warlock witnesses Dr. Strange levitate into the air and begin mumbling. The Sorcerer Supreme must plan a powerful attack. Glancing left, the warlock looks at Clea not looking at him. She seems to be looking for Pandemonium's usual henchdemons, the Rakasha. Pandemonium is pleased. Apparently, his opponents know not about his evolved abilities and advanced modus operandi. His unknown terrible technomancy will surprise them.

Looking straight ahead, Master Pandemonium sees Iron Fist's foot fast-approaching. The villain did not see that coming. With a scream, Iron Fist's flying sidekick strikes sternum and staggers scoundrel severely. Champion cracks creep across the face. Pandemonium gasps dazed. Sloppily, he swings a Steel Collar punch at Iron Fist. Chi summoned, Iron Fist punches into the fist and utterly halts it. A hellacious rattle runs up the length of Pandemonium's arm. He hollers in pain.

"Hey, I know that arm," Iron Fist points, "Some loser named Steel Collar used to have it. Some losers called System Crash and he invaded Rand Corporation once [see _Daredevil_ #329]. Then, most of them died. How in the hell did Master Pandemonium get that arm?"

Master Pandemonium spreads his arms wide and widens his stance. Electric and occult energies illuminate the area impressively. He ostentatiously announces, "I am a technomancer now. Fear me! I shall flay you in my fires and bring about—the death of Iron Fist!"

"Hey!" Clea points a finger, "If you are a technomancer now, your capabilities have changed. Do you have any Rakasha demons running around here?"

"No."

"Oh, I'll just zap you instead," Clea fires an eldritch bolt between Pandemonium's burning eyes. For a second, his peepers look knocked silly. In that second, Iron Fist grabs an artificial arm and flips the "Master" hard onto the dirty pavement.

Pandemonium glances right. Dr. Strange forms the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak in the air. Instantly, a newly computerized brain processes the combat situation, and it nimbly produces a multifrontal battle plan. The magical and mechanical energy drain is a bear. However, the sorcerer's newly combined capabilities allow him to counterattack before Iron Fist makes another move, Dr. Strange thinks another thought, or Clea speaks another word.

System Crash systems bring down another system again. Like late Killobyte, Master Pandemonium fires a targeted electric bolt. Dr. Strange yells at the jolt, and his spell dispels with his concentration. Strange grasps his heart and cringes.

Simultaneously, the fiend fires a fleshy mass from his body. Like Bitmap, the technomancer has a fluid form as malleable as Hydro-Man's (or Sandman's). Unlike Bitmap's body, the demon magician's detached flesh acts independently. The blob blankets and buffets Clea before she even knows what hits her. Promptly, Pandemonium is onto Iron Fist.

With super-speed, Steel Collar's arm swipes Iron Fist whose highly-honed reflexes do nothing to save him. In the shake of a wolf's tail, Pandemonium whips his other arm like flagellant Technospike, whose armed appendages resembled Constrictor's. Snappily, the lash cracks across chest as foe falls. In a jiffy, Master Pandemonium stands as Master Rand falls. In the blink of an eye, Pandemonium presses his advantage. Immediately, he hammers his steel hand upon supine Iron Fist.

"Umph!" ejaculates Iron Fist as brutal blows batter him into the ground. With a right and a left and a left and a right, the devil-man unmercifully mashes his metal mitts into Marvel's midsection and chest.

Yards away, Clea casts muffled curses into the blob binding her limbs, limiting her breath, and invading her bodice. Yards from her, Dr. Strange clears cognitive cobwebs. Several yards from him, Spider-Man applies webbing to Paladin's wounds. Fractures, shock, external bleeding, and internal bleeding all must have Spider-Man's attention before he can even evac Paladin, and the Wallcrawler must evac Paladin before he can aid in the fight. Pandemonium really f***ed Paladin up. Spidey shakes his head solemnly.

Suddenly, Iron Fist makes a joke from beneath his beating. The Living Weapon taunts, "Stop, Marty! You're killing me! I have seen crisper combos in a snackbowl."

Pandemonium pauses, "What?"

"Combos. You know. Those cheese and pretzel things that . . . Never mind."

Nonplussed, the Master startles. To his amazement, there is neither a purpled bruise nor protruding bone on Iron Fist's person. He wonders how.

Smiling, Iron Fist explains, "I am the Champion of K'un-Lun, and we martial arts legends have certain talents. Amongst them, we can control our bodies so superbly that we have super-durability. Have you ever seen a martial artist have fifty boards broken over his stomach. Well, I can. . . . ."

With a thought, magical telekinesis yanks the uninjured Immortal off the ground. Growling, 'Marty' minces, "You are no champion, _Danny_. You are Power Man's sidekick, Daredevil's substitute, Strange's pawn, and now my sacrifice to Satan."

"Heavens," Iron Fist drolly comments unimpressed.

Master Pandemonium gets mad. "Look into my eyes," the evil-doer commands.

The wicked wizard catches the kung-fu fighter in his gaze. Mesmerism works on Iron Fist's rigid will. For a second, the fighter goes slack, and his foe (in that second) whips a Technospike tentacle about the warrior's waist. Iron Fist snaps quickly out of the grip of Pandemonium's eyes, and he hurriedly hacks at the grip of Technospike's tether.

Tittering, the arcane abomination smiles sharp fangs in Hong Kong Phooey's face. He thinks that he has all of the heroes right where he wants them. Then, Clea incinerates the Bitmap blob in an inferno of Faltinean flames. And, Spider-Man sprints past with Paladin in a cocoon of web-bandages and splints. Over his shoulder, the Amazing Wise-Ass promises Pandemonium to be back soon to kick his hinny. Dr. Strange watches Spider-Man and the patient go. Then, unceremoniously, the Sorcerer Supreme destabilizes the ground beneath the bad guy with a mere flick of his fingers. Matter rearrangement is a simple trick for the Master of the Mystic Arts.

Master Pandemonium nearly busts his chin falling five feet through fissured pavement. Fortunately, his tentacle tethers him to Iron Fist still standing on solid ground.

"You know, Marty," Danny addresses his adversary, "I need not focus my chi into a fist. My chop is so formidable that it can slice through a tomato, a tin can, a f***ing bionic arm, or just about anything. Let go of me."

"Oh, I'll let loose alright," Pandemonium promises.

Spikes spring from wrapped wing, and they pierce bloodily into Iron Fist's midsection. The xiake's aura of invulnerability does not protect him from the effectual penetration. Iron Fist stoically stifles a scream. Dr. Strange's hands spit forth eldritch bolts that pelt Pandemonium and make him bellow. He had better sort of retreat.

Master P. multitasks again, much as it strains him. His usual black magic swiftly slings a firewall around him that disperses the surgical strikes as they arrive. His newfound form morphs as the System Crash member Infomorph might. A shapeshifter, Infomorph might have turned herself inside-out had she ever daringly attempted to do it. Pell-mell, Pandemonium sucks his skull inside past his stomach and toward his feet. He drops himself the rest of the way through the hole holding him. He takes attached Iron Fist along with him.

Both Master Pandemonium and Iron Fist drop ten feet onto hard cement. The resilient warrior is the first to pop to his feet on parking level two. One foot clobbers his foe across the face as he rises. Riled, the robot-reprobate sends sizzling electric juice through the spikes poking the hero's viscera and spine. Jolted Iron Fist jumps, jerks, and jigs briefly before—incredibly—bringing his body back under control. Unimpressed, Pandemonium retracts his Technospike member. His Steel Collar palm plants around Iron Fist's throat.

In the vicinity, a van's tires screech as it approaches. Some airport visitant speeds to get somewhere. Perhaps, the person hurries to meet some party. Pandemonium will help. He holds a party that the van may meet. Like a baserunner, the van careens around a parking ramp corner. Like a mad pitcher, Master Pandemonium hurls the hostage hero with some mustard. Like a foul ball, Iron Fist's body breaks the windshield, drops to the dirt, and has the vehicle roll right over it. The bad guy smirks as the car screeches to a stop—before his jaw drops in shocked surprise.

The driver gets out. "Get out!" she exclaims, "I last saw you about the same time that I first saw the Phantom Rider. And, I've never wanted to see either of you bastards ever again."

Bobbi Morse stands astonished in her short shorts and long-sleeved black and white T-shirt (with voluminous sleeves) on this balmy June day. Unbeknown to many, SHIELD runs a training academy in Newark. No one suspects that it is there, so no one expects to find Mockingbird motoring through airport parking ramps to pick-up recruits. For instance, Master Pandemonium, old West Coast Avengers foe, is still gawking.

Beside Mockingbird, her passenger joins her pluckily. Generally, no one knows Cindy "Silk" Moon either. Generally, most people do not know Silk from Shinola. And, they especially don't know that the superheroine supports SHIELD in the Newark area.

Beside Silk and Mockingbird, Iron Fist stumbles to his feet. He must have perfectly positioned himself between the transport's tires as it rolled over him. Danny Rand lives, and the sight really pisses Pandemonium off to no end.

Irate and apoplectic, the enfant terrible ululates, and flame shoots from his orbs as static sizzles from his pores. Pirouetting, Bobbi bounces to the SHIELD shuttle where she has her bo-staff. Watching the tantrum, Iron Fist takes a minute to catch his breath. Previously, he has encountered and fought Steel Collar, Technospike, Infomorph, and Master Pandemonium. But, today's diablo is a new beast. A youth, Silk charges forward as though invincible. Besides, she senses Spider-Man somewhere nearby. She has the uncanny ability to sense her mentor.

Mystified, Master Pandemonium wonders why a petite young lady rushes him at super-speed. His suped-up cerebrum tells his body to soften like Bitmap, and Silk splats innocuously right through him. Silk's blitz blunders.

The technomancer whips around, and his elongated appendage swings like Technospike. Silk lithely leaps the lash like a little Spider-Man.

"Bad bitch!" Pandemonium admonishes the girl.

Limbs posed, Silk prepares to shoot webbing. However, another's silvery line lopes past Silk's shoulder, and it tags Pandemonium square in the torso. Silk does not recognize the Ribbon of Raggadorr, but she does know that it is not your Neighborhood webline.

Furthermore, Cindy knows that Peter does not have the female voice that asks, "What did you just call that girl, Marty?"

"A bitch, you bi. . . . . Whoa!" the cur is about to answer Clea. But, the Queen jerks the dog's chain harshly, and she hurls him over the ramp wall. He falls twenty feet.

Clea explains to Cindy, "I teleported after Iron Fist so that I could aid him."

"I'm good to go," Iron Fist makes clear, "Let's go after the goateed goon."

Silk notices Fist's seeping stab wounds. "As a SHIELD agent, I know first aid," she states.

"First aid will wait until later," Agent Morse marches toward the garage's edge, "Martin Preston can be one dangerous dude even capable of summoning Mephisto into our dimension, impersonating superbeings, and human sacrifice."

"You don't say," say Queen Clea and Iron Fist nearly in unison.

Donning her domino mask, Mockingbird soars into the open air above Master Pandemonium twenty-feet below. Acrobatically, the elite agent alights upon hard soil without injury. Over yon, she spies the crooked man confronting Dr. Strange and Spider-Man. Someone lies on the asphalt wrapped like a mummy.

Dr. Strange and Spider-Man fight a villain to the death outside of a terminal. A grassy traffic isle is their arena as autos whiz past willy-nilly in both directions on the express road. The forked Express Road frames the fiend standing with fire in his features. Fearlessly, Dr. Strange stands between Pandemonium and Spider-Man. And, Spider-Man stands over plaintive Paladin lying in grotesque pain in the petunias. The Webslinger watches the mercenary fading before him, and he knows that he must act quickly.

Lunging forward, Spider-Man leap-frogs Dr. Strange, "Look out, Doc."

Dodging, Spidey deftly avoids the fireball flung at him. His right hook hits home in Pandemonium's side. Pandemonium's right cross is Steel Collar's huge hand, and it sails toward the hero's head. In a flash, Steel Collar's entire arm becomes smoke before it can smash the super. Upon impact, it is simply a big puff of mist "striking" softer than a pillow.

"Presto," Dr. Strange makes Pandemonium's paddle disappear.

"Pow," Spider-Man punches Pandemonium powerfully through the air. He impacts off a hard concrete barrier bordering Express Road. The rogue makes a rough landing on blacktop—as a horn blares in his ear.

"S***!" shouts the supervillain—a shuttle bus speeding over his legs.

"Motherf***er," mumbles the magician, standing on his steel limbs.

"Ouch!" exclaims the evil-doer—a long staff cracking his temple. Mockingbird next polevaults over the service road to her superfriends.

"Oh no!" natters the nabob as Spidey webs him and wields him right back to the heroes.

Silk swings-in and clocks the crook before he even hits the ground. She lands gracefully on the green. Clea wafts blithely over the thick terminal traffic. Iron Fist leaps the lanes in a single bound. Six heroes surround Master Pandemonium on a small space. "Surrender" say they. Sneering, the sinister sorcerer supposes that he has the heroes right where he wants them.

Enraged and determined, Master Pandemonium expels energy like a desperate dynamic devil. With might and main, he illuminates the entire area for acres around. Cars crash, and champions cry out startled and temporarily blinded. Pandemonium takes to super-speed in a flash. Running a circle, the blur's remaining fist flies at Spider-Man first. But, Spidey ducks as though he has a danger sense and great reflexes. Then, it rockets toward Silk. But, Silk ducks as though she has a danger sense and great reflexes. Then, it contacts Iron Fist's face. But, Rand rolls with the punch as well as any human possibly could. Then, it approaches teary Clea. But, it queerly miffs through her intangible form automatically phased into after the fearsome fulguration. Then, the fiend's fist meets Mage Strange's mandible. _But_ ,an invisible shield meets it in turn. And, the equal and opposite reaction busts Pandemonium's one remaining hand into a thousand pieces.

Spraying soil, the fiend's feet hit the brakes. Master Pandemonium mewls and moans into Mockingbird's mug. Thinking fast, he attempts to headbutt her. But, an invisible barrier nearly breaks the ass's butting head. Dr. Strange can be quick too.

"I could handle you single-handedly," Dr. Strange brags, "You, however, cannot handle any of us no-handedly. So. Surrender, Mephisto's minion, and mercy might be yours."

Mangled though he may be, Master Pandemonium still has something up his sleeve. He raises his stumps in surrender, and he appears disarmed. But, beneath anyone's notice, his faux feet flow filaments through the earth as Infomorph might. The robot roots plant his soles into the ground, and they send spell energy into the soil.

Overhead, a flight leaves for Las Vegas without hassle.

At Liberty, Spider-Man and Silk bind Pandemonium's upper legs and upper half. "I have fought Speed Demon several times. You aren't pulling any more fast ones," Spidey states.

"Don't move," Mockingbird shakes her stick at her nemesis.

"Paladin isn't moving at all anymore," Iron Fist points toward his hurt ally, "He had better not die, Marty." Danny makes for his Hero for Hire. His hands are raised and aglow for healing. He can share his chi.

Clea sounds the alarm, "The technomancer is about to use powerful magic." Her psyche detects Pandemonium's clandestine conjuring.

"I sense underground sorcery as well," Strange sounds alarmed.

Displaying his power, Master Pandemonium casts his hex, and Hell springs in Newark. The terrible transgressor transforms the traffic island into a brimstone base. That is to say, Master Pandemonium alchemizes all of the organic grass, soil, and concrete into wicked sulfur and its pernicious compounds. Suddenly, the heroes stand on acidic ground. And, worse than that, they sink into its soft powdery surface as into quicksand. And, as they suddenly sink, awful fumes inflame their eyes, fill their nostrils, gag their gullets, and gas their lungs (with which they might shriek). And, as damnation would have it, flames ignite across the brimstone, and fires threaten to consume those captives sinking in the smelly, sucking, sepulchral sand as adversary cackles.

However, the Defenders experience Pandemonium's ploy for but a decisecond. Displaying a greater power, aloft Dr. Strange grandly counteracts Pandemonium's evil action.

Mercifully, the Disciple of Order teleports Mockingbird and downed Paladin to a medical station inside Newark Liberty. Free of danger, the SHIELD agent can aid those who can give first aid. Unbeknown to Strange, Agent Morse rushes back outside immediately toward the battle. Along the way, she spots SHIELD recruits sitting semi-bored (their ride hasn't arrived), and Instructor Morse barks "You're with me". Following legendary Mockingbird, SHIELD's newest will support and protect the public.

Magnanimously, Dr. Strange dispatches Silk, Iron Fist, and Clea to exactly where they are needed. Each finds herself or himself at a car wreck that the Pandemonium just now caused. By her terrific threads, Silk pulls-up a truck dangling from an overpass. Iron Fist rips the door from a burning sedan, saving a family. Clea untangles a pile-up by levitation and scans for the injured by telepathy. The three heroes correct some chaos, while hoping that nothing worse occurs today.

Masterfully, Dr. Strange sends Master Pandemonium away and sends simultaneously Spider-Man after him. Mutually disoriented, the warlock and the Webslinger find themselves in a junkyard seven miles north of the toxic traffic island. That toxic terrain turns back to the good green earth thanks to Strange's thaumaturgic transformations. The Sorcerer Supreme accomplishes all of these things before propelling himself through a portal to Pandemonium and Spidey.

"We shall have a Marvel team-up," Dr. Strange states standing beside Spider-Man in the junkyard.

Strange's complement compliments, "I like where you sent us, Doc. There are few, if any, civilians to get hurt here, and it is the perfect venue for a deathmatch. Unless one of us gets killed, of course. Also, I simply want to capture Master Pandemonium, not. . . . . You get what I'm saying."

Ten yards away, Master Pandemonium gets to his wobbly feet. He looks weary. Spider-Man tries to finish him off. A webline hits a high pile of smashed scrap abreast the enemy. And, Spider-Man yanks the mashed metal so that it might mash Pandemonium in turn. The tower does topple. But, the hellion's hasty hellfire turns it to smoking slag, and molten metal supermundanely splashes harmlessly over him.

Before the beast, Dr. Strange appears, an eldritch bolt in each hand. From his starboard stump, Master Pandemonium fires a Killobyte bolt to jolt Strange as it did before. Curiously, the concentrated current passes through an abruptly translucent target. This Dr. Strange is but an illusion. Beside the beast, on the other hand, the modern Merlin magically grabs the electric bolt from mid-air. He brings it back upon the villain. And, if that doesn't rattle him, Strange's haymaker will.

"Strange smash!" Stephen physically slugs Pandemonium so hard that it launches him. The old Defender has always wanted to try such an incredible tactic.

Master Pandemonium impacts on the dust over yon. Spider-Man speedily swings to the scoundrel. Spidey smacks him around briefly. Then, the exhausted villain seems to simply lie down in the dirt. Dr. Strange walks over.

"Enough," whispers woeful warlock whupped on the turf.

"Yes, Martin Preston, enough," Dr. Strange carefully levitates the cursed criminal to his knees.

With a gentle murmur, the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak appear around the beaten bad actor. The two heroes expect the technomancer to try morphing out of the bonds. But curiously, he does not. Oddly, Martin Preston simply smiles through his swollen, scarleted lips as ectoplasm oozes from his missing limbs over his exhausted, shaking legs. Actors are expert eccedentesiasts, and Preston hides behind his smile now. Spider-Man eyes the captive criminal.

"Alright, Alfred E, spill it. Why aren't you worried?" Spider-Man has some sense, both common and spider.

"Dr. Strange gave me an escape plan," answers the addled adversary.

"Doctor who?" Stephen Strange asks.

"Nah, that's a different guy," Pandemonium hoarsely chuckles.

Carlo Strange programmed the cyborg's flight device to rocket Martin Preston away home if necessary. Home is Rutland, Vermont, far from Manhattan. A magic-user, such as Stephen Strange, is unlikely to expect mad scientist Carlo Strange's machinations. So, Master Pandemonium might best Dr. Strange yet. In fact, he still kind of expects to.

Voice wavering, the woozy wrong-doer addresses his captors, "Say, I just told you idiots that I am escaping."

Dr. Strange crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, "Please, Mr. Preston, you are finally captured. We good men have shown ourselves superior in wit and will."

"Not if I break your concentration," Master Pandemonium suddenly speaks in a strong voice, summoned from his last reserves. From the depths, the damned summons all of his remaining power to cause chaos. The strain stops his breath, and the breadth burns-out his brain, and the effort costs him consciousness. But, the technomancer delivers total tumult.

One airplane overhead drops into a suicidal nosedive. Another two are sent on a collision course in the sky. To the east, a Stark Industries semi loses control. To the west, a Roxxon tanker ignites. From the south, seventy-mile-per-hour winds blast debris through concrete canyons. From the north, a freak wave from Newark Bay pummels the city port. From above, lightning strikes a power station, causing a blackout. From below, a blizzard sprays upward in June from the sewers, causing a whiteout. Worst of all, in all directions, masses of people begin cruel, savage melee as though the devil made them do it. Humans brawl and bawl like animals. They hit and howl, catch and scratch, bite and fight, jab and stab, and attempt vilest violence.

Peaceful, oblivious Master Pandemonium rockets away into the blue. Dr. Strange and Spider-Man let him go, for heroes have much to do. Indeed, six heroes and ten SHIELD recruits have a very busy twenty minutes. At the end of it, their quarry is not their captive. Cobra and Pandemonium have both flown.

"Well, Defenders never say die, and Heroes for Hire never tire," Spider-Man makes a funny. Dr. Strange and Iron Fist nod agreeably.

Over the Upper West Side, Master Pandemonium's propulsion poops-out, and the human piece of crap crashes. He never makes Vermont. The limp lump lands near Lincoln Center instead. Perhaps, wondrous equipment got damaged. Perhaps, juice got drained. Perhaps, genius Carlo Strange isn't as talented as he thinks. Perhaps, something else happened.

One thing is for sure, Vulture cannot believe who has coincidentally crashed through the skylight into his loft. Lying on the floor is fouled-up, vulnerable Master Pandemonium, the person who has fouled-up Vulture's life recently and put the bird in a foul mood. The foul turkey has nowhere to run chicken now. He's stuffed.

Grabbing gown, Vulture pulls-up placid, pulped Pandemonium and pronounces, "You're dead meat."

Then, a spectral light pervades the apartment. Vulture peers into its source. A phantasmic cowgirl stands upright and still in strong spooky silence. She has a long six-gun on one hip and a short rope on the other. Her eerie eyes stare through Toomes, and her frightening finger points accusatorily at Adrian. Watching the wraith, the old outlaw weighs his words.

Vulture asks, "Who the f*** are you?"

"Your death," states the specter. She promptly pulls her peacemaker.


	19. Chap 19: Make Your Head Spin

**Chapter 19: Make Your Head Spin**

Phantom Rider wings Vulture right away. A magic bullet blows a clean hole in his indurate plumage.

Vulture flies forward fixed on annihilating this intruder. Phantom Rider simply phases through the floor before angry Adrian arrives, and she bobs back up behind him once he passes. From the posterior, her lasso catches him. It tightens around his waist and grips him. Growling, grated Vulture banks upward for the broken skylight. Fallen Master Pandemonium will have to wait. Vulture has a ghost girl to reap right now.

Phantom Rider soars through the jagged aperture into the late afternoon air. Inspirited, she yee-haws with gusto before quickly climbing the rope. In no time, the creepy cowgirl climbs upon Vulture's back and wraps her legs about him like a horsey. He climbs higher and higher into the atmosphere as though he might disperse the visitant into thin air. She kicks her spurs into his groin and makes him gasp at such feet. From high altitude, Vulture drops from the low blow.

Reaching upward, the Rider grabs Vulture's collar like reins, and she jerks back hard. Choking, discombobulated Vulture concentrates sufficiently to level-off above the Upper West Side below. The sadistic superhero slams her spurs and knees into his sides. She squeals with silly excitement.

Looping back abruptly, Vulture attempts to toss his tormenter. But, the Phantom Rider remains on the bucking bad guy. She rides adhered and inverted until the flier completes his Immelmann. When upright again, Adrian Toomes aims both artificial wings at his adversary overhead. First, his right wing fires a xiphoid feather at Jaime Slade's throat. A second later, his left wing's automatic weapon barrages her body with bullets. The lethal attacks pass harmlessly through a phantom. She cackles contemptuously in Adrian's ear. Derided, Vulture contemptuously tucks his limbs, and the two plummet toward pavement. The Rider just laughs some more. She can fly on her own too. The Phantom Rider does not fear the Reaper. Vulture notices that she is not gripped with fear. He arrests their plunge.

Vulture grabs for her hands on his collar. Surprisingly, his hands clutch solid wrists. Advantageously, the apparition actually has substance for a moment. Unfortunately, a solid Phantom Rider is also physically stronger than the hard man beneath her. Jaime breaks Adrian's grip, grabs his mitts, and nearly breaks his hands. Howling, Vulture hurtles hurly-burly as Phantom Rider twists his extremities unnaturally.

Meanwhile, other unnatural things occur on the Upper West Side. Near Lincoln Center, Master Pandemonium lies nigh comatose on an apartment floor. He is in bad shape. The heroes beat the hell out of Pandemonium. And, after the crash, icky ectoplasm oozes from everywhere. And, his hands are missing. However, eerily, those hands begin to regrow bit-by-bit thanks to Infomorph and Bitmap in Pandemonium's system.

Elsewhere, Phantom Rider rides Vulture, his hands now free. The duo drives toward the façade of the GBC News building one hundred feet over 66th Street. Vulture spins forcefully, but he cannot dislodge the Rider from his back. Abruptly, he dips sharply just short of the skyscraper, and he swoops low over the short building beside GBC. The Phantom is not scared. Startling pedestrians, Vulture whisks a mere twelve feet above 67th Street sidewalk. He would love to impact annoyance off an overhanging streetlight.

However, Vulture's tactic does not quite work. Speeding Toomes smacks Slade severely against the steel. Jaime snaps back upright. She cracks him hard along the cranium with her pistolbutt. Vulture feels an egg forming on his head.

"Turn, horsey," the cowgirl raps her mount again along the right noggin.

Temporarily reeling, Vulture turns north onto Central Park West. He rises slightly sloping his Rider back, but she does not slide off. He straightens sharply, but he does not snap her neck. Flapping furiously, Vulture buzzes by a 4th floor window near 68th Street. Otis Johnson, secretary supreme, notices the two whiz past Nightwing Restorations. The secretary supreme never misses a detail. Reacting, Otis grabs his landline to call Misty's cell. The Daughters should be presently handing over Nightshade and Cheshire to authorities.

Past Otis, Phantom Rider mischievously slaps her hat over Vulture's vision. The speeding supervillain snarls. At the last minute, Jaime puckishly pulls away the stetson. The careening criminal crashes and skids harshly along an apartment building ledge. Scraped skin suddenly hangs from his forehead, and blood spatters 70th Street asphalt and people.

In her apartment, Jen Walters looks up from the Walter Krantz that she is reading. Narrowing her eyes, she notices blood droplets on the window glass. But, they could be from an unfortunate bird. She returns to her book on her comfy couch. If the Frightful Four are raiding her residence, they'll let her know.

"No!" Vulture yells as Phantom Rider slams both thumbs into his ears.

"Haw!" the cowgirl commands her mount. Of course, he can't hear her. But, he feels his head wrenched left.

Vulture blinks through the blood. He snorts snot in frustration. He hisses iniquitous invectives. In a blur, he blindly barrels through reinforced window glass at ninety miles per hour. Phantom Rider gracefully dismounts her bedeviled adversary. Wickedly, Vulture skips over office carpet like a stone, ricochets off oaken desks, and tumbles into a hard plaster wall, which crumbles crud upon him.

Phantom Rider moseys casually through the well-dressed bystanders. In their business attire, accountants and lawyers look over the chaotic scene and the unexpected guests. Every day is a quiet day in the financial department of New U Technologies. And, New U finance is safely tucked on the sixth story of the Darnell Building. They do not get many villainous Vultures and vigilante visitants up here. The company's secret owner the Jackal might know this crowd, but the employees do not.

Phantom Rider raises someone's coffee mug to her lips. She takes it from a desk and plops her tush upon the station. Jaime studies stunned Adrian Toomes. He struggles to his hands and knees. Smiling, Jaime thinks "Good. I am not done with him yet."

Grinning, Phantom Rider compliments, "This is good coffee. It is strong enough to float a horseshoe."

"Thank you. It's Sumatran," says beancounter Irving Bank, "I like to chug some caffeine for the hectic ride home."

"I can respect looking for a rush," states Jaime, "In fact, I was looking for a hoot when I roped Vulture." She points to the punished squab.

"Oh," Irving shuffles nervously. Other drones do similarly.

"Do y'all want to hear about it?" the apparition inquires.

Many workers have fearfully fled, but many are too scared to skedaddle. So, Phantom Rider tells them, "You see, New York has got too many outlaws doing dirty deeds, too much corruption, and crime in the streets. And, I can sense a whole lot of it thanks to my thrice-great grandpappy haunting my head. For example, I spied this buzzard bastard tilting about town earlier today. Soes, I went after him after completing my day job."

"And, what is your day job?" curious Irving asks.

"I shoot damn fools who ask too many questions!" the witchy white hat answers.

"I'll shut up," Bank buttons it.

"Thank you," Slade continues, "Anyway, I had tracked Vulture to his nest near here at Amsterdam and 66th. Grandpa Lincoln had guided me to him. And, just then, who should fly over that cuckoo's nest? Why, the devil himself, Beliar. Beliar was the yellow-belly who caused me major misery out in Montana. I saw the devil. So, I roped Beliar with my telekinesis and dropped the yellow dog hard into the Vulture's hideout."

Around Jaime, professionals nod politely. Possibly meek in spirit, they do not want to offend the ghost. They do not really know what the hell she is talking about, but they do not say anything. She seems a wee crazy.

Wheezing, Vulture rises to wobbly feet. He raises shaky wings in an offensive display, and he gulps oxygen down his gullet. Blood dribbles down his face. It dribbles comically off his hooked nose, his beak. It stains his pale cheeks. It gets into his gritted teeth.

Phantom Rider smiles back and sets her finished coffee aside. She is going to finish him—at some point. Playfully, Phantom says, "Alright, hombre, put up your dukes."

Elsewhere, Master Pandemonium sibilates feverishly on the floor. His eyes roll, and he murmurs in his misery. Right now, stolen lifeforce would be mother's milk to the woeful witch. Luckily, this is New York City, and there is eternally life all around. Focusing feebly, the fiend calls cockroaches like fictional Aquaman, from Earth-616's funny books, calls fish. Pandemonium consumes them like Parasite from the same funny books. With luck, the villain should be fighting superguys in no time.

At the Darnell Building, Vulture is too dazed to think of threatening hostages. Normally, the veteran villain would think of that tactic. He cannot easily hit Phantom Rider, but he can harm the slackjawed idiots stupidly standing around a superfight. Of course, the tactic might not work. Vulture is unsure if he fights a stereotypical superhero. Phantom Rider seems a little meaner than Spider-Man or Daredevil.

Phantom Rider steps into the office's main aisle. She peers into Vulture's eyes, and he glares back into hers. Giddily, she does a jocular jig toward him, her spurs jangling. Then, the shootist gleefully shouts, "Say, Toomes, let's have a showdown. You got a gun in your wing right?"

"Yeah," the old outlaw answers.

"Well, draw!" Phantom Rider brandishes her weapon in a blink and blasts a bullet between the buzzard's breastplate.

Vulture also gets off a volley, but it misses completely. The Spider-Foe is spectacularly fatigued. He clutches his hurting chest expecting cascading crimson. However, there is only a smoking hole in his costume, not skin.

"Trick shot," taunts the Phantom Rider. She winks wryly.

Then, the kryptonite lead takes effect. An instant ago, Slade's intangible bullet phased harmlessly past heart and spine. But, the bullet blew-out the anti-graviton generator behind them. Vulture's enhancing harness is getting heavier by the second. Soon, the elderly evil-doer will have neither super strength nor flight capability. His attached wings weight upon his lean arms and his worried mind.

Observing his angst, Jaime Slade could show mercy on her battered, disarmed, (perhaps) helpless foe. But a sadist, a killer, a rapist, and a wraith—Lincoln Slade—occupy her spirit and mind. She is, alas, quite mad and possessed. Thus, Jaime sadistically summons her lasso to her hand by telekinesis. The tether is still attached at Adrian's waist. Snapping her wrist, she adeptly rips a wave through the rope. It smoothly loosens from the waist, drops two feet, and tightens around the calves. Criminal cringes, for he knows how a cruel mind works.

Raising her hand, Phantom Rider conjures a dun mare from her white glove as the Ghost Rider so summons a mount. Like the Spirit of Vengeance, the cackling demoniac drives her thundering horse forward. She drags away the guilty and carries off her carrion, the Vulture. Evening commuters watch the pale shade cross the sky.

Elsewhere, Pandemonium makes his move. The Master manipulates the technology interspersing his body. Systemically, it camouflages Pandemonium perfectly with the loft's yellowish linoleum floor. The low man is thankful to Bitmap and Infomorph and their adaptable, malleable, fluid forms.

The Lake's waters nearly drown the Vulture dragged through them. In Central Park, a ghost gallops atop The Lake near Strawberry Fields. Underwater, poor Adrian Toomes thrashes in a pathetic agony. The unwashed prays for deliverance. Fortunately, his tormenter delivers him from drowning. She hauls him over rough pavement and through buffeting bushes. Onto Sheep Meadow, she goes. Sheep Meadow's soils excoriate the costume and skin from Vulture's back, and his carcass forcefully cuts furrows into the sod in turn. Mercifully, Phantom Rider halts her horse in the bucolic green. She dismounts to stand over the downed, dragged dastard in the disturbed soil. Toomes lies framed in earth as though in his grave. The eidolon unholsters her six-gun. Before Vulture, she swings the cylinder out into his line of sight. There are four cartridges left.

She speaks, "Adrian Toomes, I can't believe you let a gal whup you the way that I whupped you. I beat you so bad that it made your head spin."

Dizzy in the dirt, Vulture defiantly declares, "You'll get yours."

"Not from you. Take a dirt nap," Phantom Rider spins the cylinder, pops it home, and fires four shots into Adrian's chest. The remaining cartridges aligned perfectly in the revolver. And, supernatural Slade spins the gun perfectly back into its holster.

Still Vulture lies splayed in the upset sediment. He is not dead, however. He does nap in the dirt, though. Jaime Slade has a conscience, so her ghost bullets leave Vulture peacefully unconscious.

Still, any desperado knows how to spit, and the present anti-hero is no exception. Antisocially, the ghost gobs a long sloppy string over the bested outlaw. Grinning, she greets some nearby Manhattin "townfolk" who were having an after work picnic in Central Park. Most New Yorkers know to run when powered battles rumble by; however, these picnickers sit aghast and agape at the glowing apparition and cadaverous goon. The Phantom Rider tells the priest and the sister to please call the law to pick-up Vulture. The Phantom Rider has another sinner who she's "really gonna punish". Ascending, the specter disappears. The priest wonders aloud whether the wraith were hero or villain.

Outside an Amsterdam address, a New York cabbie stops his taxi. David Cannon pays his fare, disembarks the cab, and balances on his high heels. He straightens his sunhat and sleek dress too. Cannon is determined to be the scariest sight that Adrian Toomes sees all day. He walks to the entrance. A building resident gets the door for a lady and compliments that her Van Dyne outfit looks enchanting. Whirlwind bets to himself that he looks even better than that whore Janet Van Dyne. He enters the building's stairwell.

Five stories above, Master Pandemonium leaves Vulture's loft—in a way. He astral projects into the hallway. Like Casper the Friendly Ghost, Master Pandemonium flits about the building. He scouts for friends, enemies, and all present parties. On a stairwell, he spies a somewhat interesting sight. A lovely lady removes her high heels to better run up the steps. She wears a fashionable Van Dyne dress and hat that Martin Preston must admire. Beholding her, Martin scans up to her face. "Her" mug is very interesting too. Master Pandemonium recognizes David Cannon. They met at a Connecticut Bar with No Name in recent times.

"Why is Whirlwind here?" wonders Master Pandemonium.

Padding apurpose, Cannon progresses upward, perhaps to Vulture's loft. He neither sees nor senses his ethereal observer. Probing, Pandemonium plunges his phantom fingers into David's head. The warlock will read Whirlwind telepathically. Inside the head, Pandemonium plumbs the lowlife's plans.

Whirlwind wants Master Pandemonium dead. He is not going to live in fear of the warlock. Partner-in –crime Spymaster might have successfully slain "Mr. Beliar", but Mr. Cannon is not going to count his chickens until they are definitely decollated. Whirlwind has seen too many "comic book deaths" in real life. Like late Spymaster, the Master of Evil will work sources and gather information.

Vulture is a decent source with which to start. He might not even know anything. Whirlwind and Spider-Man fought Vulture's doppelganger, not the dude himself. However, in Cannon's loose logic, Adrian Toomes might have something to do with recent events. So, why not sneak-up on him in a disguise? Why not have a surprise interview? Buddy Egghead provided the Vulture's unlisted address.

Suddenly, something witchy to Toomes' apartment comes. Master Pandemonium senses the Phantom Rider's arrival above. Astral adversary unplugs from palooka's pate. The technomancer computes a ploy that just might work. He levitates hastily toward the loft.

In the upper apartment, the woman wraith wonders where in the hell Pandemonium is. The Phantom Rider cannot see him anywhere. Blasted "Beliar" has disappeared again, and furious Jaime could f'n kill him! Certainly, Pandemonium is not lying listless where Slade and Toomes left him. Unbeknown to her, the ghost—whether solid or spectral—keeps pacing through the cloaked cur on the floor.

Unexpectedly, there is a knock on the door. It startles the Phantom, but she quickly recovers. Scanning, her telepathy tells her that villain Whirlwind stands on the other side of the door, but he is wearing a female disguise. Phantom Rider chuckles, for she can wear a womanly disguise too. Snapping her fingers cutely, Jaime Slade returns to mortal form. This surprise ambush is going to be great! Jaime imagines it in her mind. She gets to tell David that "Adrian's not here, man. But, the Phantom Rider is!" Then, she gets to scare another bad guy, possibly ride him about the city, and leave him in pitiful shape. The sadistic super smirks in anticipation.

Behind her, Master Pandemonium smirks too. From the astral plane, he casts an illusion over Jaime Slade. He snickers. This surprise is going to be great.

Unexpectedly, a voice barks beside him, "What in tarnation do you think you're doing?!"

Pandemonium jounces in fright. He beholds another spirit present besides himself. It is another Phantom Rider.

Jaime opens the door ajar. There is a short, thin chain protecting her from the Whirlwind outside. Beyond that, she has unearthly powers. Her eyes smile upon David. David Cannon's eyes go really wide. Martin Preston's famous face has answered the door, and violent vengeance is mere inches away.

Whirlwind attacks so furiously that it makes Jaime Slade's head spin. The entrance explodes in her face. Splinters enter her eyes, and pieces of pine pelt her. Cannon's skirt blows-up, and the dress twirls from him. The Human Top is hastily atop his target, tearing her clothes as well. Like a spin cycle, his centrifugal motion sucks the saliva—and oxygen—from her agape maw. He bounces the bamboozled woman off the walls with walloping impacts. The Master of Evil mops the floor with "Marty". Whirlwind whups Phantom Rider so utterly that it makes her head spin.

Tempestuous Whirlwind releases his unconscious toy. Her form slides slack across the linoleum. The Top stops and stomps across floor. Savagely, the victor shakes "Master Pandemonium" by the long hair.

"I would love to f***ing scalp you with my infamous, fearsome buzzblades," Whirlwind explains, "But, they did not go with my outfit. I couldn't conceal them easily. So, I'll have to improvise when I exenterate you."

The Top stomps to the efficiency's kitchen. There are surely blades there with which one might dismember the evil dead. Or maybe, Master Pandemonium will be still alive when Whirlwind slices and dices him like some cuisine-art. Either way is fine with wild Whirlwind.

The real Master Pandemonium is fine with what he just saw. Lincoln Slade is upset to see his thrice-great granddaughter downed. However, her adversary ain't. Pandemonium decides to take advantage of ancestor Slade's shocked reaction. Concentrating, the cursed conjurer calls upon dark forces greater than his own evil energies. To his slight surprise, Hell answers.

In a thundering voice, Pandemonium calls, "Lincoln Slade!" Neither Whirlwind nor neighbors hear onto the astral plane.

The Phantom Rider shoots back, "Martin Preston. You don't scare me!"

The Master shrugs, "I am sure that I do not frighten the Phantom Rider, the Man of Destiny. But, your past sins should. In your life, you were a murderer and a rapist."

"Those were different times," Lincoln shrugs back.

The Master continues, "Since your death, you have unnaturally tormented the good Avengers. For your misdeeds, Mr. Slade, Mephisto comes a-calling."

Instantly, tentacles spring from the ether, and they seize Slade about his body. He screams, "What?! What?! Aw, f*** you!" Those words could be his epitaph.

The tentacles tighten. They retract swiftly into the shadows, the damned soul wailing as they pull him to perdition. Wrapping, they twist their prey into Hades' tenebrous maw, and things change so fast for arrogant Slade that they make his head spin.

Master Pandemonium turns his chin toward his inert body. Unknowingly, Whirlwind stands over it while standing over who he thinks is Master Pandemonium. Chortling, prideful Pandemonium decides that he will make Whirlwind's head spin. Then, Master Pandemonium has to go.

Ogling, Whirlwind admires pulverized Martin Preston. David Cannon prepares to behead the malevolent mutha with a meat cleaver before mincing him to meaty bits and pieces. Then, Cannon pauses very puzzled. Before his eyes, a badly battered brunette lies suddenly instead. For a second, he wonders where she possibly came from. In the next second, he wonders from where Master Pandemonium possibly appeared.

From nowhere, Master Pandemonium's mummy appears eighteen inches left of the unknown boob. At least, Whirlwind thinks that the desiccated carcass is Pandemonium. The body wears his costume, and its wasted face resembles his. The crinkled, enervated (apparent) corpse wears shiny, intricate metal gauntlets like an honored mummy. Someone has even remembered to nicely cross the dead guy's arms. The (apparently) deceased Pandemonium looks like something that one might see at the American Museum of Natural History.

Dr. Jaime Slade moans meekly in her injured state. The noise makes agitated David jump. He shimmies in place. Whirlwind catches his breath.

Then, the ground ghoul gives him a virtual heart attack. Shrieking, the deceased sits-up. Instantly, he grabs Slade's wrist to his right and seizes Cannon's ankle to his sinister. Before mutant powers move, the lich is sucking lifeforce like a leviathan lamprey.

Cross-dressing Cannon wishes that he had worn pantyhose today, although that look is no longer fashionable. Even nylon might have hindered a sorcerer from sucking the very life from him. Whirlwind watches the color and flesh wane from his hands, thrust up in agony. His limbs shrink and become skeletal. His eyes sink sharply into their sockets. Cannon tries to scream, but his deathcry arrests in his collapsing chest. All blood is rushing from his body into Pandemonium's draining hand. Sensation ceases when life leaves Dave's brain dried-up like a cheese. All flesh crumbles from David Cannon's bones and becomes dust in an obscene instant. Momentarily, Whirlwind wafts in on the loft's air currents. Then, the cremains cascade over Pandemonium and the bones comically conk him as they fall.

Master Pandemonium's peals of laughter puff the human remains from his lips. Standing, he dusts himself off jollily and jigs about in the bones. Master Pandemonium is alive, and he just caused the Death of Whirlwind. Whirlwind is not a nobody. He has fought a ton of superheroes over a long, infamous career. The fiend fantasizes how his reputation will grow for having destroyed the Human Top. The fiend ponders how Hank Pym and the Wasp will take the news about their old foe. Will Dr. Pym go nuts? Will Jan Van Dyne react as coldly as the stereotypical ditzy white Anglo-Saxon Protestant? Who can say?

Of course, Phantom Rider died too. Giddy Pandemonium notices her dusty ulna in his hand. Contemplating, he taps his leg with it for a moment, and he pulls at his begrimed goatee. Phantom Rider is not a well-known marvel, and her death will not matter much—to a rascal's reputation (her family is a different story). However, the deviant could actually benefit from her obscurity. In particular, Jaime Slade has a secret identity more secret than most. Everyone knows a movie actor and supervillain. Nobody knows a "distinguished" academic.

Peering from one pile of bones to the other, the bad guy states, "Well, good for the goose, good for the gander, as they say."

The monster mimics Jaime's form. Preston walks out as easily as Cannon walked in. Cop cars meet him outside of the building, though. They respond to the commotion upstairs. Police run past him, and he walks west nonchalantly. There is a nice café down the way, and Master Pandemonium thinks that he will rest there a while.


	20. Chap 20: Luke Lives!

**Chapter 20: Luke Lives!**

Joy is not here at the moment. Joy Meachum is running late for her date with Danny, so he sits single at Rockefeller Center's restaurant.

This July evening seems an odd one at the eatery. There seems to be some strange convergence occurring tonight, even if Joy is absent. Away from Danny, Wilson Fisk sits in the air-conditioned main restaurant. Apparently, gangster Kingpin does not want Iron Fist on the patio hearing his conversation. Fisk and another man huddle and visibly conspire about something. To Rand's surprise, the other man is Buck Ralston, far-right icon. Unbeknownst to Iron Fist, Buck Ralston was once the Tribune, enemy of Daredevil (see _Daredevil_ #70-71). So, the Kingpin interviewing the Tribune makes sense if one really thinks about it.

Danny does not give Kingpin's threat much consideration. For one thing, Danny is the Immortal Iron Fist, and he can be much more iron-fisted than either Fisk or Ralston. For another thing, Rand notices who sits nearby on the patio in the July heat. Aptly, Johnny Storm—the Human Torch—sits in the sweltering dusk. And, for whatever reason, Dr. Leonard Samson—Doc Samson—shares a table with Storm. Between the two titans, a careworn woman sits. She seems to pour-out her troubles to them. Unbeknownst to Rand, the lady's name is Lorrie Melton, which is a little funny and ironic considering the outdoor swelter and her Human Torch relationship.

Iron Fist looks away from his two brothers-in-arms. He examines the restaurant's other occupants. ESU's Chancellor Dick Gorman and President Dave Dwyer conspire in the vicinity of the Kingpin. Uri Geller stares at his spoon on the patio. A Father Coza and Sister Helen discuss how much nicer Rockefeller Center is than Central Park. A Harry Heck strums guitar for ambiance. And, Rupert Holmes seems to await someone at the bar.

Like Holmes, Danny Rand also thinks about a late friend, but Iron Fist's missing friend is late in a different manner of speaking. A few years back, Luke Cage died before Danny's shocked eyes. Or rather, Iron Fist is nearly certain that he witnessed Power Man's death. One night in 1986, the street-level heroes were casually caught between two cosmic forces—the Devil and a god living on the deep blue sea. During the second Secret Wars, Mephisto and the Beyonder conflicted. So, the Dark One devised a terrible plan. In the night, the Beast crept into Danny Rand's secure penthouse. He neither raised an electronic alarm nor triggered the Living Weapon sleeping beside wakeful Misty Knight in bed. Mephisto roused Iron Fist, and he kidnapped the Kung Fu Killer before he could even defend himself. A tentacle appeared from mid-air, wrapped around the warrior, and whisked him through a portal.

Instantly, the Hell-Lord had them in Luke's residence where Cage was likewise sleeping. With a wave, Mephisto muted Danny's mouth and paralyzed his limbs. Limply, the superhero stood bound in the tentacle in the shadows. Leaning in, the Devil whispered that he had something spirit-crushing that he wanted Danny to see. Flitting over the floor, the Beast approached Iron Fist's helpless partner. He hovered over prone Luke. Then, Mephisto gently roused Power Man.

Luke blinked awake. Between blinks, Mephisto flung a glamor over himself with a flourish. Groggy Luke saw only Iron Fist at his bedside. Obliviously, he addressed a demon disguised as his most-trusted friend.

The Lord of Lies explained that the omnipotent Beyonder operated currently in the Pacific. Specifically, the Beyonder occupied an uninhabited atoll in American Samoa, and the faux god gathered followers to him there. In Manhattan, Power Man and Iron Fist had found the celestial visitor to be quite dangerous. They imagined him to be a threat to the entire Earth. At this midnight conference, "Iron Fist" wondered whether Power Man would be willing to do anything about it.

Of course, Luke wondered back what two street-fighters could possibly do against the Beyonder. Iron Fist took Power Man's hand and assured him that he could transfer great mystical power—far beyond personal chi—to his partner. Cage commented that he was skeptically open to the action.

Then, Mephisto did something wholly unexpected. He revealed himself to the mortal hero. The Hell-Lord held the hero's hand and asked Cage again whether he would willingly take the power capable of destroying the god in the Pacific. Surprisingly, Power Man thought about the proposal. Then, disturbingly, the Hero for Hire agreed to be Mephisto's instrument. Luke supposed aloud that Mephisto, eternal evil, and the Beyonder, perpetual negligence, were equal threats. However, Beyonder could be eliminated, and Mephisto could not. Thus, Power Man thought himself to serve the greater good. The Devil and Luke Cage shook hands. And, the man felt tremendous, terrible power flow into him.

Unbeknownst to Luke Cage, the Devil's handshake connected him to a cataclysmic device called the Beyondersbane, stored in Hell. The Beyondersbane was a weapon-of-mass-destruction for the entire Earth and galactic vicinity. Mephisto and Death had collaborated to construct it. And, Luke would be its conduit once he made contact with the Beyonder, completing a circuit between the Beyondersbane and the errant entity. By this cataclysmic convergence, Mephisto would slay his enemy on the earthly plane (where the Hell-Lord otherwise lacked the power to do so), and Death would claim a billion times a billion souls. And, Luke would be their tool.

Mephisto teleported the Heroes for Hire and himself to American Samoa where it was evening. The demon secreted Iron Fist and he in the shadows, and he sadistically taunted Danny that the good warrior would witness the world's end and his friend's everlasting ruination. In the gloaming, Power Man approached the Beyonder on a beautiful Rose Atoll beach. The naïve numen welcomed this man to his island paradise, and he strolled toward this man whom he had met and liked (see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #121). The host's hand was outstretched, and the visitor stretched his forth in turn. As the hands neared, Luke Cage—a decent man—warned the all-powerful being that he was in grave danger, for Mephisto had sent Cage to kill him. In his mind, the street-wise hero had beaten the Devil. He was valiantly double-crossing the Prince of Deception. Luke Cage smiled broadly—like a fool.

In his mind, Mephisto howled with joy and amusement, for he knew that the path to Hell is often paved with good intentions. Often, ignorant men try to save lives and the world only to utterly destroy them. When Cage made contact, even friendly contact, he would still perpetuate doomsday.

The hands touched and shook in peace for an instant. In the next nanosecond, awful energy obliterated Power Man resplendently. Unbelievably, the swift flash did the same to the Beyonder. In an instant, the blast disintegrated Iron Fist, the island, the Earth, and a piece of Eternity as well. Daniel Rand does not really remember the oblivion into which he flew, and he does not remember how long he was there, if time even existed. Iron Fist only remembers being reformed back in his Upper West Side bedroom. The Beyonder was there wearing Mephisto's tattered mantle like a trophy. The omniscient being explained curtly that someone else might as well remember the apocalyptic incident. Then, the Beyonder departed. The Avengers and Molecule Man successfully killed him awhile later.

In the present, Iron Fist well remembers his friend Luke Cage, Power Man. For years, Danny has assumed that Luke was utterly destroyed and lost that day. However, Dr. Doom and Dr. Strange have recently indicated otherwise. Iron Fist ponders whether to undertake a possible excursion seeking a dead man.

The Kung Fu Killer startles. From nowhere, Doc Samson sits across from Danny. The Living Weapon wonders how Samson possibly snuck-up on him. Iron Fist is about to ask when Doc Samson stands abruptly. Jutting a trembling finger, shouting Samson announces, "Luke lives! Luke lives! Luke lives!"

"What?! What did you say, Samson?" Danny stammers—before noticing that Doc Samson does not sit across from him at all. The psychiatrist continues conferencing with his patient some distance away.

"Mr. Rand," the noted super-psychiatrist addresses his famous colleague, "I am having a confidential conversation with a patient. Eavesdropping is rude."

Danny strides hastily over to Leonard, Johnny, and friend. The heroes shake hands cordially, and everyone is polite. However, Samson cannot say that he said anything to Rand. The doctor asks if Iron Fist is confused for some reason. Iron Fist cannot say that he is, but he admits that marvels seemingly live in astonishing tales. Parting, the two mutates concur that there are some real oddities out there.

One awaits Iron Fist at his table. Thanos the Waiter delivers Danny a strong drink. Dressed as a server, the Mad Titan wears a huge burgundy blouse over his quarter-ton torso and a hanging white apron over his huge haunches. He is dressed as a server. His usual great golden gauntlet sets a highball glass on the table while sweat shines on his bald, purple head in the heat.

Frozen agog, Iron Fist wonders whether other eatery occupants are seeing what he is seeing. Looking over, Thanos' red eyes burn through the gathering dusk. Thanos speaks, "Mr. Luke Cage has sent you some Tibetan raksi liquor. He says to come find him in K'un-Lun."

"W-w-what do you mean?" stammers the superhero.

"LUKE LIVES!" booms a boogeyman's unearthly voice. Iron Fist wonders whether anyone else hears the stentorian statement. Somehow, he assumes that they do not.

Massive Thanos slides slickly into the shadows and simply disappears. Instantly, another bulky form emerges from the same shadows. Despite the July swelter, a chill runs through Danny. He recognizes the tan parka and the snow-encrusted boots. Certainly, despite doubting his eyes, Danny recognizes her face when the parka's hood drops back. Deceased Heather Duncan Rand exhales cold dragon's breath into the air. Danny's mother says that her son and she must talk. She has news for him: Luke lives.


	21. Chap 21: DIAF, Part One

**Chapter 21: DIAF, Part One**

Master Pandemonium's surroundings remind him of Arcturus IV, where he once visited. Like that alien planet, Death Valley is also a desolate but wondrous place. Arcturus is desolate and wondrous because the alien Fortisquians, servants of the Beyonders, built a paradise there, but that paradise was lost into ruins. Death Valley is desolate and wondrous in part because nature made it so. However, at the moment, the desert is also wondrous because Dr. Strange has superimposed an Edenic garden over it. Of course, the garden actually exists on the astral plane, and the usual physical reality is but visible around it. But still, the whole scene is an extraordinary sight that conjures odd memories in Martin Preston's mind.

"If you do not mind, we shall begin our conversation," Dr. Strange seats himself at the patio table set-up in the green. Master Pandemonium and Clea have taken their seats already.

Pandemonium returns his thoughts to present times and present company. "Very well," the villain replies, "First order of business. Are you here to attempt capturing me?"

"At the moment, Clea and I would not dream of it. Over recent weeks, you have proven very hard to handle," the hero quips, "We would rather presently parley than skirmish."

Clea adds assurance, "Stephen and I suggested that we three powwow on the astral plane because we know that everyone's abilities are retarded here. Thus, no one can fight as well as he did in, let us say, Newark."

Martin recollects proudly, "Yes, we did have a good donnybrook in the Garden State."

"You have also combatted the Defenders well in Big Sky Country and the Big Apple," Dr. Strange sips tea in the desert, "All such conflicts have brought us to this fine garden in the Golden State."

"California has been good to me," Master Pandemonium reminisces, "I had a solid Hollywood career once. And, Los Angeles is also where I fought the West Coast Avengers well—more than once. Perhaps, California will be where I foil the Defenders as well."

"I doubt it," Strange sniffs, "However, our parties have battled to a certain stalemate, Martin."

Master Pandemonium scratches his chin, "Stephen, would you like a truce?"

"Yes, we actually would," Queen Clea surprises her guest, "We want your mischief to stop before many more innocents get hurt. We want your machinations to halt before they result in the future death of Iron Fist or anyone else."

"So, you do want a truce," The Master snorts, "Why would I agree to one?"

"Because, actually, the City of Angels has not always been good fortune for you," Dr. Strange rejoins.

"I lead a charmed life," the enchanted assures.

"You lead a cursed one," Clea corrects the demoniac.

"Mephisto captured, enthralled, and destroyed you in the City of Angels, Martin Preston," Dr. Strange reviews some history, "You have been a miserable creature and the Devil's plaything ever since."

Master Pandemonium does not reply. He purses his lips in a pout, for he must face certain truth. His dark eyes dart around taking in the scorching Death Valley landscape. He considers the Eden where he now sits. The damned man knows that he will not be resting here long before returning to an unforgiving desert of some sort. The desert could be the deadly wasteland surrounding him. The desert could be the lonely life of a transgressor. The desert could be the perdition of Mephisto's Hell. With a heavy heart, the hollow man wishes that he could remain in the garden and its ease.

Dr. Strange seems to read his mind, "Mr. Preston, I can save you. But, you must now make a deal with Clea and I, two Disciples of Order. You must abandon your deleterious works and seek the peace."

Martin sighs, "You know, I have regretted past sins. I regret making a deal with the Devil to become an abomination. I should have accepted my fate after driving drunk and crashing. I regret the agony that I have caused Scarlet Witch over the years, and I even admitted that to her sons Wiccan and Speed once [see _Young Avengers Presents_ #3]. Part of me even regrets tormenting Tigra over time and putting Shooting Star through hell."

"Very well," Clea hands Martin mellifluous nectar from a nearby Elysian lotus. Martin Preston takes the cup.

Stephen Strange raises his own, "Let us toast the peace that we shall now agree to have. And, let us plan your possible emancipation from Mephisto, Mr. Preston."

"That would be a miracle," Master Pandemonium ponders, "But, success is not guaranteed."

Dr. Strange nods, "Indeed, the Devil even confidently walks this desert currently. This valley of death offers him souls to steal and great opportunities for the world's ruination. However, other heroes and I have always defended against. . . . ."

Into the west, Mephisto ogles his prey while Cobra looks over his own. In occidental Death Valley, the Prince of Treachery trails behind Prof. Hamilton Slade and Mr. Klaus Voorhees as the trio trek through languishing heat over stark land under an unrelenting sun. Appropriately, Avarice has disguised himself as Dollar Bill, the documentarian filming the expedition.

Ahead of the Beast, King Cobra assesses when to strike. He has been following Prof. Slade ever since meeting the man in Newark. During their flight, archaeologist Slade had mentioned some field research that he was doing west of Las Vegas. In Death Valley, there sits an abandoned Avengers laboratory that Dr. Hank Pym used for awhile. One day, Ultron attacked Pym there, and the West Coast Avengers had a battle (see _West Coast Avengers_ #89-91). The place has been deserted ever since. However, Dr. Slade understands that certain artifacts were left behind. He claims that the Avengers have entrusted him to catalogue the lab's contents so that SHIELD can remove Pym's parlous possessions later. For example, there is a certain amount of adamantium remaining at the facility. No one wants that stuff to fall into the wrong hands. Except thief Cobra. He intends to steal and sell the stuff after bushwhacking fool Slade.

Of course, Hamilton Slade craftily leads Cobra into a trap. The Phantom Rider has known since Newark with whom he travels. In reality, the facility likely has no treasures. In all likelihood, the Avengers removed any contraband a long time ago. The lawbringer intends to merely offer an ass a carrot on a stick, enervate his enemy in the unmerciful heat, and then apprehend him like a good Ranger.

Slade leads on into the distorted air ahead. Badwater Basin is a hell of a place. Intermittently, it offers smoldering white salt flats and baking brown earth for the burning trio to traverse. Before them, craggy Telescope Peak rises, but it provides neither shade nor comfort.

Dollar Bill comments, "If it gets much hotter, I don't know what I'll do." Aaron English quotes a novel about man's nature, greed, and foolishness.

Through Bill's shades, Mephisto eyes the hero and villain before him, and he snickers. Each man thinks that he suffers in hellacious heat in a lifeless land, but neither has any idea into what living Hell that their companion will deliver them. Satan snickers some more, for each "mighty" man thinks himself invincible. Phantom Rider thinks that he can pass through any danger like the Spirit of the Night Winds. Cobra thinks that he can worm, wriggle, and writhe his way out of anything. After all, the King Cobra has faced the god Thor and lived.

The Devil will not tolerate such pride exceeding his own. He must punish these mortals and bring them low. Ever high on his power, Mephisto must amuse himself by besmirching and bullying "lesser" beings.

Bill commands his two leaders, "Stop! I have something to tell you."

"Oh? What have you got?" Hamilton kindly queries his aide.

"What I have to tell you is that I have something to show you," answers Aaron English.

Klaus Voorhees swipes sweat, "Well, get on with it. It's awfully hot out."

Beaming English dallies, "Actually, I have two things to show and tell."

"F***ing tell us!" Cobra snaps.

Incognito Mephisto outstretches his arms, "I give you—Lake Manly!"

In his left hand, Aaron holds his canteen. To his companions' surprise and consternation, Dollar Bill dumps the precious water to the last drop onto the desert dirt.

Slade's mouth droops, "Prof. English, I believe that you have had too much sun. You should not waste water so."

Bill's mouth sneers diabolically, "But, Prof. Slade, I only wish to swim in Lake Manly as I did in my youth."

"I seriously doubt that you swam in Lake Manly. Lake Manly is the name for the prehistoric sea that evaporated to form Death Valley," the archaeologist answers, "You are hiking across the lake instead of paddling. Perhaps, it is only your head that is swimming."

"I am hiking," Aaron acknowledges, "We are hiking. And, we only have eight more miles in one hundred Fahrenheit until we make the cool air-conditioned confines of an Avengers outpost."

"Not that you'll make Pym's place," interjects ruffian Klaus. He expects the strawberry blonde's brain to fully bake long before reaching the base of the Panamint Range.

Evil English counters, "Oh, I'll make Pym's old place, but you two won't. Alas, besides Lake Manly, I have something else to show you."

"What is it?" Hamilton Slade grows increasingly concerned. The incognito hero compassionately approaches his apparently heat-exhausted comrade. He has water.

"Two catostomidae in the mere," the creature continues.

"Catostomidae are sucker fish," Voorhees voices, "I used to be an assistant to a biologist."

"I know, Cobra," Mephisto muses, "I was there when I tempted you into becoming a serpent."

"How the hell do you know who I am?" Cobra spits, "And, how do you know my origin of gaining amazing powers after being bitten by an irradiated cobra?"

"Because I'm a snake myself," the Hell-Lord hisses. His companions' canteens explode, scalding them with steam. Mephisto ogles the two like two boiled fish in a barrel.

In an instant, Hamilton Slade transforms into the Phantom Rider. The spectral sheriff stands akimbo and stares down his adversary. Possessed Bill smiles back. Between them, Klaus Voorhees snarls in pain. He supposes that he is going to kill Bill. Snapping his fingers, playful Mephisto conjures Cobra's costume over Klaus' person. The Devil loves to provide a murderer his means, and motive.

King Cobra aims a deadly dart gun, "Explain yourself before I execute you. For example, which old enemy of mine sent you? Are you Dr. Druid sent by the Avengers to protect their property? Are you an Asgardian sent by Thor? Are you Mysterio sent by Daredevil? Are you a HYDRA 'serpent' sent by Viper? Are you someone sent by the Mongoose? "

"I have already explained," Dollar Bill speaks in a deep, dolor voice, "You are two sucker fish. Phantom Rider thought that he could sucker you King Cobra and that he could capture a criminal. You criminal Klaus Voorhees thought that he could sucker Prof. Hamilton Slade and steal from an innocent. But, I, Dollar Bill's doppelganger, have suckered you both."

Phantom Rider aims dual six-shooters, "Yeah well, there's a sucker killed every minute when the Son of the Spirits is 'round."

"And, there's usually a road to hell paved when heroes have good intentions," the Prince of Darkness retorts, "Let me illuminate while I eliminate."

Scyllan tentacles spring from the broiling firmament. They snag their prey and slam them to the salty silt. They pin them like crucified trout baking on the ground. With a fury, the Phantom Rider addresses his motions to freeing himself. Using his unheralded flexibility, King Cobra pursues the same. But, the brimstone bonds stick to the two exceptional beings. Try as he might, Cobra cannot contort himself free. Try as he might, Phantom Rider cannot simply phase his captured carcass from the kraken cords. Both conquered characters struggle in fear and amazement. Their amazed eyes grow bigger when they see Mephisto—in his true terrible form—standing over them. Contradictorily, a shiver runs down their spines as their backs blister on the plain's salt pan. Against the setting infernal sun, the crooked god stands smiling wickedly in the shimmering, searing, distorting air.

The torrid wind steals Cobra's breath and parches his tongue. It desiccates Cobra like a fish mummifying in daylight. Old Arnold Voorhees gasps for gas. Then, the Lord of the Lower Depths waves his hand, and the salty earth sucks the sinner into the valley's dry bowels. Buried alive, the miscreant should die miserably of suffocation.

Phantom Rider exhales, and he strains against his unbreakable bonds. Impossibly, the unforgiving wind slowly kills a ghost like a sucker stuck under the sun on Lake Manly's shores. Over the dying spirit, Lucifer looms leering in the blazing luminosity. Unexpectedly, Legion lofts his cape and kindly blots out the sun's rays, but the Dark One does not cast this shadow out of kindness. Satan has greater than Sol's cruelty in mind for the captive hero.

Mephisto declares, "Hamilton Slade, you are a fool for defying me."

"I'm a white hat. It's what I do," Phantom Rider defies Mephisto.

"You are a fool for seeing yourself a hero, Hamilton," Mephisto tells the ensnared, "You are a Slade, and you are always one misstep away from becoming great-great-grandfather Lincoln, the deviant."

"I ain't that reprobate!" the Rider's glowing orbs challenge Mephisto's burning own.

"You are a Slade," the Friend reiterates, "And, you are always one moment of wrath away from being legendary killer Carter. You are always one heinous act away from becoming your brutal brood Jaime—may God judge the dearly departed harshly."

"Departed? Did you call her 'departed'? My daughter is not departed," Phantom Rider wrestles his tentacle ties, "The other Phantom Rider might be a ghost, but she is no goner. My child's alive! You lie!"

"I'm the ultimate black hat. It's what I do," Satan spits sizzling saliva, "However, in this case, I do not deceive. Your child is cremains. Master Pandemonium made her so."

In his chest, the Phantom Rider suddenly senses the death like a cutting bullet. In his skull, the truth imprints like a hot brand. By his occult abilities, the Haunted Horseman knows that his dear daughter is indeed dead. The Spirit of the Winds howls and thrashes like the Zephyr. The Ghost Rider screams and burns for vengeance like Zarathos. He shakes the earth telekinetically with his tumultuous mind. The bereft father summons his six-guns and fires them furiously into the empty air again and again.

In a blink, Mephisto summons another unnatural tentacle from the arid earth. The enchanted arm chokes the angry ethereal apparition into silence. Mephisto simply says, "I have good news. Master Pandemonium soon comes this way."

"Vengeance," Phantom Rider sibilates, though he is trying to scream. He makes a fist that Mephisto notices.

"Normally, I would allow you to solve your problems with violence, superhero, and to take one step closer to Hell," the Adversary assures, "However, I have a better torment in mind. Howabout you die a painfully death without getting your revenge? You can become wormfood while witnessing Master Pandemonium continuing to live his damned life."

Phantom Rider wonders what the devil the Devil means. Then, grotesque grubs, great in size, burst from beneath the soil. The seventeen-inch slimy, slithering slugs swarm over the stretched shade and sink their teeth into him, sucking his blood. They brutally burrow into his body. He screams. From below, the lethal lifeforms pullulate upon Death Valley.

From above, a huge red-tailed hawk, a native Death Valley predator, appears. It dives. Like nails, its talons drive into the fettered phantastic flesh flat before it. Avian awls rip the Rider's cheeks bloodily wide open as the hero stoically stifles his whimpers. His face's raptor stares him down, and he shockingly sees its humanoid eyes glaring into his own. The Son of the Spirits gasps as the attacker turns to his worm-riddled chest. Phantom Rider realizes that the attacker must be Azmodeus returned once more.

Swift talons unmercifully slice flesh from Slade's ribs. The raptor rips free a dangling morsel and gulps it. The hawk grows four feet. Azmodeus stands tall and heavy on the Ranger's collapsing chest. The fire fades from the Phantom's lucent being, and Hamilton Slade is as bound Prometheus was without his borrowed fire. Azmodeus and the writhing maggots simultaneously screech in victory. Then, Azomodeus snaps his maw shut, and he hurls his hawkish head downward. His prow punctures Prof. Slade's paunch and rips out Phantom Rider's liver as a punitive eagle once punished a titan, and champion of the people.

Mephisto gazes and giggles. Gleefully, he anticipates the next chaos and suffering that he will perpetuate. The two Defenders and Master Pandemonium will arrive soon, and Mephisto anticipates picking on them as Azmodeus presently picks-on the Ranger.

Anon, an unnaturally cooling wind blasts over the desert into Mephisto's smirking visage. Creature's cape cracks in the gust. Grinning, Mephisto greets his three expected enemies with open, outstretched arms. However, he gets a surprise party, of more than twice the number, instead. Six Defenders and an evil sorcerer appear from thin air. Around Mephisto, stand the heroes Dr. Strange, Clea, another Defender, Iron Fist, Misty Knight, Colleen Wing, and their temporary ally Master Pandemonium. At them all, Mephisto just keeps grinning, for the extra guests are no trouble. Always trouble himself, the Devil hardly has idle hands.


	22. Chap 22: DIAF, Part Two

**Chapter 22: DIAF, Part Two**

Iron Fist rushes in where angels fear to tread. The Dragon of K'un-Lun bravely blitzes Beelzebub. Mephisto awaits the foolhardy foe whom he would obliterate. Cocking eye and arm, he simply prepares a fireball to contemptuously dispatch his charging challenger. Awaiting, the Adversary sees the immense energy summoned into the Kung-Fu Killer's fist, and he giggles at the thought that the mortal's best shot could possibly harm him.

However, Iron Fist surprises. The sprinter springs over Mephisto instead of attacking. He avoids his adversary entirely. From high above, Iron Fist drops fist-first to the hard, hot ground. The earth explodes all-around the epic hero, and a crater forms. From the depths, a poor suffocating sucker flops, and Cobra is free of his grave, riding the blast upward. Immortal Mephisto is impressed and amused by the "immortal" Iron Fist. Superhero sorties slightly relieve a damned immortal's ennui.

Misty Knight is the next do-gooder to do something cute. On Mephisto's flank, the Knight flits past. She fires her "deadly" magnum several times at the devil. Playfully, he puffs his chest like Hyperion and allows the bullets to bounce harmlessly off. Whimsically, he considers shrinking Misty to the size of a mouse so that she might be hawkish Azmodeus' morsel and meal. He considers mischievously transmuting her leather boots to stone so that she comically falls flat on her face.

Mephisto's own face feels strange magic before Mephisto creates any mischief. Sorcerers Supreme Dr. Strange and Clea barrage their enemy with awesome eldritch blasts that hurt much more than Misty Knight's bullets. The Beast smiles—in anger. He decides that it is time to slaughter some superheroes.

To the side, superlatives Colleen Wing and Master Pandemonium slaughter Mephisto's soldiers swarming upon Phantom Rider. The hellworms go in; the hellworms go out; the hellworms play pinochle on his snout. With a harsh hex, Pandemonium explodes the rapacious grubs into gooey pulp. Abruptly, Azmodeus stops feeding on the Phantom Rider's liver. The avian abomination notices that his fine feathers and person are shellacked in buggy gore. The angry demon stands-up and squawks. Springing, samurai Wing slams her katana through Azmodeus' shoulder and slices savagely downward. The hellspawn's torso bisects and his guts fall steaming onto the desert. Azmodeus is slain just like that.

"Lights out," Misty Knight decks Cobra with her bionic right hand.

The snake was actually playing possum (his sinister hand aimed a deadly dart shooter at his rescuer). Apparently, an enhanced being is not necessarily unconscious after being buried alive for several minutes.

With her left hand, Misty helps her beau Danny from the crater that he created. He emerges temporarily slack and enervated. Misty pulls him to her, and she gives him brief mouth-to-mouth. Most likely Mephisto dislikes observing any such amor.

Looking away, Satan sees Wing and Pandemonium liberating Phantom Rider from the flurry of tentacles tethering the Ranger. He appears quite mutilated and dead. The infernal appendages, flailing freely, attempt to capture comely Colleen and magnificent Martin like tentacles in a hentai movie. However, Master Pandemonium will have none of it. Straining, the sorcerer summons a spontaneous sand storm that erodes and softens the grabbers swiftly. He snaps free. And, Wing's swift sword slices the flaccid stalks to pieces. For a moment, the Daughters of the Dragon, the Dragon of K'un-Lun, and Master Pandemonium are pleased at how they are kicking evil's ass.

Then, Evil kicks right back. Mephisto summons a mystic shield, and he stands stalwartly behind it rebuffing Dr. Strange and Queen Clea's occult onslaught. While his right hand holds-up an aegis as adamantine as Zeus', his sinister hand gestures over the heated firmament of Death Valley. An unholy whirlwind arises. The Devil would stone the Daughters, Dragon, and demoniac for their pride. Dust stifles their vision and smothers their breath. Sand scours their skin, and wind whips their flesh. Rocks mercilessly pelt the protectors, and they can only go prostrate to protect themselves.

Grinning Mephisto turns his attention to the Defenders attacking his shield. He shouts, "Strange! You too will suffer and cower! I am the Lord of Evil, and you are only a Master of the Mystic Arts!"

"You are also a Prince of Lies to yourself if you think that we shall not defeat you," Strange replies, "Witness!"

Devil-Slayer teleports to the devil sniggering before him. The Shadow-Cloak sets the Slayer behind the Enemy's shield. The Deceiver sarcastically feigns fear. Devil-Slayer smashes an enchanted battle-ax across Mephisto's sternum—to no effect. The taunting target sneers.

"What the-?!" Mephisto queries, "Who the f*** are you?"

"Devil-Slayer!" announces the Defender. He shakes his mighty ax.

"Just kidding. We've met," Mephisto drops his buckler. Levitating Dr. Strange and Clea advance toward him.

"We've met when you confronted the Six-Fingered Hand," Mephisto continues, "But, know you what, Devil-Slayer? You did not successfully slay any of those devils either."

Abruptly, Mephisto incredibly expands his mass like the Hulk. He raises the back of his hand to the impudent paladin and prepares to knock him to the other side of the Panamints. Defenders Dr. Strange and Clea prepare to halt the mighty hand. However, the member is too fast for them. It swings perilously upon Devil-Slayer's person. Quickly, Devil-Slayer spreads his Shadow-Cloak as though the magic cloth might protect him.

To everyone's shock, the Shadow-Cloak does so. The Defender's mantle billows wide around the gargantuan's girthy fist, and the warrior grabs the goliath's incoming hand. In an instant, Devil-Slayer teleports over the desert. And, shockingly, he takes the Evil One's appendage unmercifully with him. Eric Payne causes Nick Scratch to howl and heft his hurting, hewed limb high. Putrid ichor squirts across the darkening sky and splatters the salty soil. Mephisto screams in a voice harsher than Death Valley's worst life-taking zephyr. But, in an instant, he regrows his stolen extremity and makes an angry fist.

"That muthaf****!" Mephisto comments.

"Here is more of the same," Clea comments arriving on Mephisto's right.

Dr. Strange lands at his left. Together, the wizards entreat Agamotto to illuminate the chaotic creature in the Vishanti's omnipotent, orderly light. Agamotto delivers effulgence greater than the sun above or the inferno below. Unmitigated brilliance envelops the Dark One. The light of truth turns the Lord of Lies translucent and nearly carries him into oblivion. It burns him and causes him agony. But, Mephisto's will is strong, and he is determined not to be banished.

"My splendor is greater," the Beast bluffs.

Straining his powers, Mephisto summons the furious fires of Hell. From his gaping jaws and splayed fingers, Mephisto flings flames far and wide throughout the nearby and the surrounding. From the bowels of the Earth, he brings geysers of hellfire. From thin air, he ignites an inferno around the two sages. The conflagration seemingly consumes Dr. Strange, although the demon seriously doubts that he destroyed the Sorcerer Supreme so easily. In the fires, Clea calls upon Oshtur to protect her from the flames, and the entity sends an insulating aura to preserve his agent.

Chortling, the Hell-Lord regains his bearings. The three Defenders really did a number on him for a moment there. The crooked creature stands upright before the lone Clea. The Sovereign of All of the Dark Dimension shows no fear before her terrible foe. She drops her protective aura and summons awesome arcane energies into her hands.

Mephisto raises an outstretched palm back at her. Through his fingers, he views her image—small for being a distance away—as though he could seize her. He speaks, "Oh, foolish Faltinian, I could quash you with a thought, but I shall flay you with a thought instead."

Clea curls her lips into a growl. Mephisto growls back through a grin. Lust himself swipes his hand downward sharply, and the magnificent garments rend from her beautiful form. Concentration severed, Clea gasps and stands naked and amazed at Mephisto's unabashed iniquity. Seeing her hesitate, the wolf attacks his prey. Twenty-feet from his foe, Mephisto furiously flails his clawed hands, and hideous clawmarks remotely rip across her bare body in succession. The Queen screams. The eldritch light leaves her hands so that she might press them to her wounds. Her bleeding flesh falls onto the dirt.

Dr. Stephen Strange finds Clea's plight very hard to watch. With aching heart, he wishes that he could go to his hurt and humiliated beloved. However, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme has necessary work to do if he would save his entire dimension from Mephisto's malevolent machinations. Thus, Dr. Strange meditates in a temporary pocket dimension. The Symbol of the Vishanti protects him; no evil creature, much less the Prince of Evil, can perceive him here. The Disciple of Order floats the Book of Vishanti before him. Dr. Strange has a marvelous plan if only his allies can combat Mephisto long enough for Stephen to cast an epic spell, if only the Defenders can defend Earth awhile.

Defender Devil-Slayer reappears from thin air as though he were deus ex machina. And, the Devil blasts his aspiring slayer instantly before his assailant even moves. The fighter falls flat in his smoldering clothes. Ever tough, Devil-Slayer remains conscious and flops around, trying to rise and fight.

Snapping his fingers, Mephisto turns Devil-Slayer's smoking costume into solid igneous stone. He snickers at the silly superhero straining against abruptly indurated apparel. Under fiery setting Sol, Mephisto sunnily skips over to exposed Clea who painfully rises to her knees. Satan simply smacks her supine.

Unexpectedly, someone taps Mephisto on the shoulder. The Friend wonders who the polite attacker might be. He rotates his head 180 degrees to see.

Master Pandemonium speaks, "Master Mephisto, how do you ever plan to off me? Your dust devil just now did not work?"

Beelzebub guffaws, "Master Pandemonium, I could destroy you at any time, on a whim."

"How?" the servant pshaws, "Others more powerful than you have tried from Lore to the Fantastic Four, from the Chaos King to a Cheyenne god."

With a brutal backhand, the Dark One slaps Pandemonium across the sweltering salty sands. "Be careful, Martin, I might rip your mouthy head from your body and replace it with a demon part too."

"You took my limbs, I remember," Pandemonium rises, "You took my soul too and spread it across five dimensions. That was all very clever of you."

Psionically, Mephisto slides his feet over the desert sands until he is in the thrall's face. "I am very clever," the Adversary admits, "However, do you know who is not very clever? You."

Pandemonium shudders. He wonders whether Mephisto discerns his ploy. This repartee is only for delay. Dr. Strange prepares a most powerful spell to surprise Lord of Lies. The heroes combat the Hell-Lord only to give Strange time for his awesome actions. Marty Preston respires heavily on Death Valley's burning air.

Foolishly, Mephisto misreads the miserable man panting and perspiring before him. The "all-powerful" demon cannot read mortal minds. That is one of his few limits. He is not omniscient like God. And, Pride personified is certainly never so humble as to fear his foes. The Beast just figures that he has his prey terrified.

So, Mephisto continues glibly gloating, "You are hardly clever, peon Preston. You perpetuated a plot to please me. You proposed to kill and cannibalize Iron Fist and, thereby, consume his soul."

"Yes, I wanted to again be in the Devil's good graces—as they were," Master Pandemonium acknowledges, "I wanted the death of Iron Fist so that I could eat his flesh and absorb the puissant spirits dwelling within him. Thus began the events leading us here."

"Well, evil Iron Fist foes Zhou Cheng and Ch'i-Lin have attempted twice almost your exact same plan, and it did not work for them either. You are perpetually pathetic, Mr. Preston," Old Nick gives the inferior the evil eye.

"Oh ouch," says the demoniac drolly, "You seek to hurt my feelings after torturing my body and tormenting my soul all of these years."

"And, you seek to insult my intelligence," Mephisto states, "Your comrades have recovered and encircled me once more."

On Earth, Mephisto might not be able to read minds, but he is one of the most cunning strategists in the entire universe. While kibitzing, Master Mephisto knew what servant Pandemonium was doing. Distracting and delaying him.

The Daughters of the Dragon deliver Azmodeus' decapitated dome into the dirt at Mephisto's feet. Colleen Wing stands at two o'clock, her katana bravely raised. At ten o'clock, Misty Knight stands stalwartly ready to face-down Hell himself.

Beside Wing, warrior Iron Fist stands at four o'clock summoning the sum of his possible chi. Beside Knight, warrior Devil-Slayer stands at eight, miraculously restored. His Shadow-Cloak shook the effects of Mephisto's magic from the Defender. From the depths of the Shadow-Cloak, Devil-Slayer produces the legendary Ebony Blade. Perhaps, the Black Knight's former wicked weapon will fell the Dark One.

Behind Mephisto stands Clea—her raiment fully restored and her constitution somewhat so. The Queen readies for retribution on her enemy. Like her lover Strange, the Sorceress Supreme gathers great powers to unleash on her opponent. However, if Mephisto does sense her on his six, he causally ignores her.

At Mephisto's twelve, the demon notices something much more attention-grabbing. The Phantom Rider actually manifests once more, and he is even atop his horse Banshee. The Evil One cannot imagine the strain of performing such a trick. The Phantom should be a mere shade in the Realm of Death right now, not present on this plane. The Rider should be six-feet-under currently, not present at a high noon.

Mephisto gazes around the "clock" of good guys. He smiles contemptuously. He sings contemptuously, "Will the circle be unbroken bye-and-bye? Come and seeeee." Wrath's hands beckon the Defenders to battle.

The Young Dragon, the Daughters of the Dragon, and Devil-Slayer dash daringly forward to engage their nigh unconquerable enemy. The clock converges. At ground zero, Master Pandemonium blasts eldritch bolts at Mephisto's puffed chest. He will not kill Mephisto thereby, but he might buy the clock time to arrive and attack.

Instantly, the Devil destroys the clock who daftly would clock him.

In a shake, Satan shrinks Master Pandemonium to the size of a piss-ant on whom scorpions might snack.

In a flash, Lucifer playfully throws lightning from the clear sky onto charging Iron Fist. The bolt incinerates the tunic from Iron Fist's torso, and it blasts him backward ten ells. It is nearly the death of Danny. He lands supine, shocked and shaking. Smoking breath quivers forth from his insides—before he inhales sharply to begin superhumanly healing himself. With indomitable will, the Immortal Weapon determines to rejoin the battle shortly.

In no time, the Adversary ages Knight's firearm into rust dust and her bionic arm into scrap. Her gunbelt even disintegrates from Misty's person and becomes dust in the wind. And, the person herself ages instantly into a decrepit dotard.

Within a second, Mephisto seizes silly Colleen Wing's psyche as Wing flies at him. He appropriates the samurai's disciplined mind and deadly sword-arm. He has his puppet cast her katana at arriving Devil-Slayer. The Ebony Blade deflects the sword. Then, the swordswoman herself arrives. The expert martial artist disarms the weaponmaster with adept karate. Dismayed, Devil-Slayer sees the Ebony Blade leave his hand, before seeing Wing's hands and feet in his face. The ex-Marine does his best hand-to-hand with the possessed mistress. But, she is kicking his ass—and ribs. And punching his face. And kneeing his abdomen. And chopping his limbs (reaching for aid in the Shadow-Cloak). And head-butting him. And flipping him ferociously flat. Mephisto's puppet pummels Eric Payne unsparingly.

Proud, Mephisto admires his work, despite any Defender danger before and behind. He stands smugly surveying smitten superbeings.

Behind him, Queen Clea prepares to hurl an army upon brash Legion. Behind her, the Sorceress Supreme opens a gateway wide into the Dark Dimension. Soon, a horde of Mindless Ones will rush forth and have at Mephisto. Marauding Mindless Ones will overwhelm and maul, mutilate, and dismember Mephisto into mash. Or, so Clea prays. The dame will regret using her dimension's doomsday device otherwise.

Mephisto detects the really big spell on his six, and he breaks from his reverie. Tired of her hijinks, the Hell-Lord decides that he will kill Queen Clea.

But, before the devil can try, a man on a white horse rides in. Like a messenger, Phantom Rider discharges his pistols high into the dusk sky. The Ranger would go out in a blaze of glory. Hamilton Slade is not long for this Earth, and he knows it. Mephisto's malevolent machinations have ravaged the Ghost Rider, and he can barely maintain his manifestation on this plane. Soon, he will join his ancestors Carter and Lincoln and his descendant Jaime.

Banshee screams and bucks as though he might actually intimidate fear itself. The faithful steed charges the Beast. Like a cowboy, Phantom Rider twirls his (supernaturally) lit lasso high before the animal whom he would control. The looped length flies and falls upon the malefactor's neck like a noose. The gallant ghost gallops past as if he would snap Satan's upper spine and then drag him low through the desert dust for all to see. It is a proud moment for the Phantom Rider. But, as the Devil could tell him, pride precedes a fall.

Like a pillar, Mephisto stands fixed and stationary despite any fantastic force yanking him to his fate. His feet remain on the earth. And, Phantom Rider flies from the saddle, at the end of his rope.

"We shall not be moved," proclaims the Hell-Lord to the lowly legend lying on the dirt.

Like he who rules the night winds, Mephisto blows breath toward big Banshee, and a mighty wind simply slings the spectral steed through the opened aperture into the Dark Dimension. Malevolent Mindless Ones horde over the horse, and he is simply overcome.

"Let the Mindless Ones make glue of him, and let dread Dormammu have at you," Mephisto stands over downed Phantom Rider. The uber-fiend stoops and seizes the fallen. He flings the hero far into the Dark Dimension. Perhaps, the original Ghost Rider finds the Grim Reaper there.

At the dimensional portal, Clea watches the Ranger and his mount being dispatched, and the Dame of the Dark Dimension plans to rescue her comrades-in-arms as soon as possible. Heroes hope.

However, Clea also worries that the Defenders and their allies might all fall before Mephisto. She has the embodiment of evil advancing upon her. For an instant, Clea and Mephisto lock eyes, and she looks into the infernal depths of infinite. . . . . For an instant, she looks away and searches for assistance. Impressively, Iron Fist rises and wobbles despite his grave wounds. Misty Knight wallows in the dirt. Devil-Slayer lays reeling after feeling the wrath of Wing. And, Colleen Wing appears a sleepwalker awakening from a nightmare. Clea realizes that she is essentially alone against mighty Mephisto.

Mephisto halts a distance from the Fearless Defender. The Prince of the Damned inspects the mass of Mindless Ones stampeding toward the portal to Death Valley.

"Clea, let us close the f****** gate before any disaster befalls anyone," Mephisto states, "Mindless Ones should be kept caged lest they create chaos. Creating chaos is my job."

Mephisto clutches a hand in the air and concentrates hard. Likewise, Clea summons her greatest will. Both conjurers close their eyes and claim the portal. A psychic battle of wills commences between a Grand Disciple of Order and a Prime Engine of Destruction. Both have their respective flames spring onto their heads like halos, and the regal Flames of Faltine compete with purest hellfire. If possible for the Devil to sweat, he does now. Upon Clea's brow, vessels rise as though they might gorily burst. She groans with determined strain. Mephisto grinds his pointed teeth like great gears. He summons massive magic from his innate mojo. Draining his inner energies immensely, Mephisto drags the "unmoving" fabric of reality to a cinched close behind Clea. The aperture shuts. The sorceress faints onto the firmament face-first, a sphincter shutting behind her and a sphincter standing before her.

Oddly, Dr. Strange smiles as he watches remotely. The Trickster just did exactly what the Master (of the Mystic Arts) wanted. Dr. Strange is further pleased. He sees Pandemonium attack Mephisto one last time.

Master Pandemonium has counteracted the shrinking spell. At his full six feet, he stands before Mephisto. Looking up, he stares Satan down.

Mephisto sighs, "Martin, I have simply decided to kill you."

"Well, bless you for that. I am a cursed man," Preston replies, "But, before leaving the stage, an old thespian has one more act to perform."

"I see ***hole. What's that?" Mephisto wonders.

Pandemonium pans, "Pulling a snake from my stomach and a goon from my guts."

Abruptly, the hollow man rips his robe open and reveals Cobra stuffed into his open abdomen. Like a macabre magician, Master Pandemonium jerks contorted Cobra from his empty torso. Like a charmer, Pandemonium sics his snake on the Serpent.

"Oppose utter evil!" Master commands. Often, even criminals will condemn the most debauched and dangerous deviants.

"F*** that!" Cobra replies. Arms raised, the Adversary looks quite intimidating. The fanged one flaps his cape (facetiously) like Dracula too.

"Then, at least take some revenge," Pandemonium proposes.

"F*** that too! He's too powerful," the King exits stage right. Cobra tries to sinuously slink away southward at great speed.

Swiftly, Mephisto swoops his arms downward. From nowhere, a swarm of flies fall over Pandemonium's body. His screams cannot be heard through the unholy buzz. The Lord of the Flies smiles. They eat the demoniac down to the ectoplasm, and gobs of gross goo spread over the ground. So ceases Master Pandemonium, apparently.

Instantly, Mephisto appears before fleeing Cobra, intercepting him. "Freeze!" the creature commands.

Ice conjures unnaturally from the hot, arid air. It encases legs loping over the desert. Nimble Cobra falls flat on his belly, and he begins crawling desperately across the chafing sand. Chortling, Mephisto kicks some of that sand in King Cobra's face. The fiend plans to bully the low creature a wee before brutally ending him.

Mephisto steps into the crawler's path. Pathetic Klaus Voorhees halts, and his eyes might plead. Satan speaks, "Klaus, my serpent servant, I want the last thing that you ever hear to be a bad pun. So, I am killing you in cold blood."

With a snap, Mephisto literally freezes Cobra's fluid flesh. The blood solidifies in the cold-hearted villain's veins, and the legendary lout unceremoniously dies.

"See you in Hell," states the Hell-Lord. He kicks the cold carcass, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Mephisto scans the surrounding scene. It is time to kill everyone really. He has eternity to ruin mankind and the universe but only so much time to spend here. Over yon, Colleen Wing hefts her katana high. She seems determined to do a Samurai Jack versus Aku thing. Mephisto considers forming a flaming sword and doing a Surtur versus Thor tableau as touché. To Wing's side, Iron Fist gathers his last strength. The warrior seems determined to die a good death fighting the good fight. To Wing's other side, aged Knight rises with resolute rasping breaths. Surveying the three, Mephisto could just puke at their valor. He is sure that Clea and Devil-Slayer are glad to be currently unconscious and that Cobra and Master Pandemonium are glad to be dead.

Without further ado, Mephisto taps his toe upon the earth, for he has more power in his hallux than the heroes have in their collective bodies. Furiously, the ground begins to shake, and the firmament shudders. The Daughters comically drop before his sight. Impressively, stubborn Iron Fist stands and stares-down the Devil. Mephisto does not mind Danny's defiance. No one will remember any Defender's deeds this day. Rather, for humanity's remaining time, mortals will remember that something cataclysmic, surely something cursed, shook the Earth from the valley to the mountains, and a tsunami of sediment rose over the entire sky and crashed over as Death Valley actually flipped itself. Sans scientific or logical explanation, man will be fearful forever more, and Mephisto will sit somewhere in the shadows very pleased.

From the darkening sky, Dr. Strange re-appears in glorious light that spreads over the brave and scorches the evil being tormenting them. The Eye of Agamotto illuminates the entire area in all directions. And, the unnatural earthquake ceases in an instant. The Vishanti have arrived to restore Order. They are not present themselves, but they work through Earth's Sorcerer Supreme and their eponymous Book.

Good has arrived. In its healing power, Eric Payne (Devil-Slayer) and Clea stir. Danny Rand and Misty Knight are restored in its splendor. Colleen Wing is grateful to behold and feel it around and within. To everyone's shock, Martin Preston's ghost ascends toward Dr. Strange in the scintillating heavens. His soul goes to the Disciple of Order just as munificent Stephen Strange and he had planned. At their meeting on the astral plane, Strange and Pandemonium conspired to swindle the Devil of his thrall's soul. Now, Dr. Strange delivers wretch Preston to the Vishanti in the pocket dimension. Oshtur takes Preston into her protective arms, and the Vishanti goddess whisks the warlock away from earthly troubles. She assures Martin Preston that the man goes where Mephisto, and other evil entities, will not soon find him. The Bright Lady assures Martin that he is safe for now, but she warns him that he is not necessarily saved. Wise Oshtur admonishes Preston that past sins and bad karma will always follow him, but she advises him that the man might still decide his own fate.

"Your moment of doom has arrived!" Dr. Strange shouts upon Mephisto, back on Earth.

"The eternally damned can never be doomed to die," answers the Adversary.

"That is true. But, evil can always destroy itself," Dr. Strange explains, "You created Master Pandemonium capable of bringing a hall of demons into the mortal plane. You corrupted Martin Preston's body into a conduit between this world and the next."

"He was my abomination and my plaything," Mephisto affirms.

"Well, I used your own abomination against you," bright Strange elucidates, "Throughout this epic battle, you expended extraordinary eldritch energy ostentatiously."

"I wanted to f*** with your minds," the Devil admits.

"Through Preston's shell, I channeled all of it into an angry mass out somewhere in the omniverse," Strange descends on Lucifer like an arch-angel.

"So?" Mephisto addresses this mere man who dares address him face-to-face, "Stephen, 'thou shalt not steal'. You should return Old Nick's odious energy to him immediately."

"Oh, I shall," Dr. Strange smirks, "Have you ever heard of the Beyondersbane?"

Mephisto snickers like a snot, "Heard of it? Hell, I designed it. The Beyondersbane siphoned unbelievable energy from the Beyonder and weaponized it so that. . . . ."

Mephisto halts his mouth. He has an epiphany. "Aw, goddammit," he uses the Lord's name in vain.

Dr. Strange is more eloquent, "When your enemy gives you malice, give him love." He quotes from religion.

Suddenly, Strange embraces Mephisto tightly. Paradoxically, the diablo dies in a paroxysm of his own hellfire. Indescribable energies obliterate the Lord of the Lower Depths from the earthly plane (for a while). For a moment, Mephisto mewls as he's melting, he's melting. Then, Mephisto smolders to obsidian soot.

Then, a placid night arrives in Death Valley, and all is silent.


	23. Chap 23: Epilogue

**Epilogue: The Death of Iron Fist III—The Search for Cage**

The Himalayas are stark like Death Valley, but they are much cooler than the California desert. Iron Fist can appreciate that circumstance. He inhales the chilly mountain air so familiar to him. Before him, he beholds the beautiful white and gray of High Asia. Before him, crude ropes and wood form a long hanging bridge over a craggy chasm. Upon his skin, bone-chilling winds blow, and Danny is glad to feel them. K'un-Lun lies ahead over the Bridge of Destiny. Ahead lies Daniel Rand's second home.

Iron Fist will visit the mystical land of K'un-Lun before departing for the greater multiverse beyond it. Danny Rand is determined to bring Luke Cage home. Luke yet lives—somewhere out there. Recent events have convinced dedicated friend Danny so.

Companions will accompany adventurer Rand on his quest. One of them approaches the Bridge of Destiny before Danny ingresses it. Iron Fist intercepts.

"Eric, I should lead the way," Danny Rand, Iron Fist, tells Eric Payne, the Devil-Slayer.

"I understand. You should lead this journey into mystery, for you know best our fate across the Bridge of Destiny," Payne replies, "Please pardon an old soldier used to leading the charge."

"I understand," the Living Weapon understands a fellow fighter.

Behind Danny, another traveling companion speaks, "I look forward to seeing K'un-Lun. In all of my exploits, I have never actually been."

"That's impressive," Rand's eyebrows rise, "I am surprised that the Scarlet Witch has never been, and I look forward to showing you it, Wanda."

Wanda Maximoff is the Scarlet Witch. She is a legendary Avenger and adventurer. A person would expect that she has seen everything by now. Whether K'un-Lun is new or not, any hero would love to have her along on this enterprise, and Iron Fist knows that she will be most useful in the unknown into which they trek.

Behind Scarlet Witch, Dr. Strange and Clea stand a distance away. The swirling wind lofts Stephen's crimson cloak, and the dun snow complements Clea's silver tresses. The two Masters of the Mystic Arts look quite regal as they send their Marvel Knights forth.

Dr. Strange waves them off, "Good luck to you three. May you live. May you prosper."

"Thank you. We shall boldly go," Iron Fist replies.

"We wish that we could join you on your quest," Clea assures, "However, Stephen and I cannot cling on. We must oversee and protect our realms."

"I understand," Iron Fist assures back, "Dr. Strange has provided his powerful occasional protégé Scarlet Witch to support Devil-Slayer and I on our odyssey."

"Plus," Scarlet Witch adds, "There is no guarantee of success on our mission. Neither Earth nor the Dark Dimension can afford to lose a Sorcerer Supreme."

Dr. Strange wraps Clea and himself comfily into his Cloak of Levitation, "Well, we plan to see you when you return. So, please plan to see us again."

"Iron Fist will return in my tale's next chapter," the hero bows farewell. He starts for the great expanse ahead. Payne and Maximoff bid adieu too. The Strange couple disappears in a poof of smoke and snow.

Devil-Slayer catches-up to Iron Fist on the bridge. "So, what risks lie ahead? We should plan our little extraction mission," the old devil-dog inquires.

Iron Fist answers, "Maybe Thanos. Maybe the Beyonder. Maybe Death herself. At Rockefeller Center, I had a lucid vision that wasn't very clear."

"Are there any immediate hazards in K'un-Lun?" the marvelous mercenary asks.

"Well, there is one guy who habitually hectors me," the Hero for Hire admits, "But, I do not fear the wrath of Khan, Master Khan."

Elsewhere, the Rockies are beautiful like the Himalayas, but they are much warmer in late summer. The sun shines on Misty Knight fishing Ashley Lake. Montana has beckoned the Daughters of the Dragon back. They did not get to finish their vacation here last time.

This morning, Misty sits a piece off shore in a canoe. For a moment, she studies companion Colleen Wing on shore, gathering kindling for a fire. Colleen studies her back. Shifting her sight, Knight peruses the scintillating water for rainbows and cutthroats. The angler hopes to catch a fish soon. She hopes to make a good memory after recent challenging events. The professional huntress hopes to find some momentary respite. The woman hopes to relax for once. Aiding her relaxation aspiration, a pretty tune drifts from camp over the idyllic scene. Colleen has turned-on the radio, and pianistic mood music mollifies Misty. Knight sighs the tension from her breast.

Suddenly, Spymaster springs from behind!

Lake sludge slides from the re-animated corpse of Nathan Lemon, and his awful, atrophied arm wraps 'round his victim's neck. Shocked, Misty peers into the putrid eyes of the undead. For an instant, the fumes of Lemon's fetid flesh invade her nostrils as she gasps in his chokehold. Before Knight can react, he yanks her backward below the water and. . . . .

Colleen startles. She thought that she heard something from the lake. She looks. Instantly, the overturned canoe catches her attention. Colleen drops the kindling from her hands, kicks the flip-flops from her feet, and prepares to sprint. But, from behind a pine, quick unexpected hands capture her long hair and jerk her back hard into the erect wood. Behind the tree stands a man wearing a burlap mask. And, behind the mask, crazed eyes go wide with homicidal excitement. Ebenezer Laughton seemingly stands there returned. Scarecrow brandishes a baling wire garotte and brings it forward. Beautiful Colleen Wing gazes at the glinting scarifying, strangling strand and gasps.

Elsewhere, Clea pauses on the path to the Tibetan yurt ahead. She states, "Stephen, I sense that my sisters-in-arms Colleen Wing and Misty Knight are perhaps in trouble somewhere."

"Hmph, odd that I do not. I shall have to look in on them," Stephen scratches his chin, "However, worry not, my love. The Daughters of the Dragon are no damsels in distress."

"True," Clea acknowledges.

Spontaneously, Stephen Strange sweeps darling Clea to him, and he kisses her. She kisses him back.

"Shall we enjoy a repast before you must return to your Dark Dimension duties, my queen?" Stephen indicates the yurt before them.

"Why yes," Queen Clea takes her man by the hand and leads him.

Attendant Wong opens the flap to the tent and lets the two into the warm interior. The two lovers have a lovely meal and toast the adventure well-concluded.

The End? Never the End.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. Fanfic readers might get the next—and final—book in the Death of Iron Fist sometime. I have an outline. Otherwise, I hope that you have thoroughly enjoyed this one and the first.


End file.
